


Distractions

by Meimi



Series: Some Reassembly (and Rebranding) Required [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Civil War Team Iron Man, Excessive Swearing, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Rhodey Is a Good Bro, Slow Build, Steve critical, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony's POV, because Vision is very critical of Steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-16 22:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9292496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meimi/pseuds/Meimi
Summary: Tony Stark does not cope, he just keeps making bad decisions. What else is new?





	1. Let the Games Begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note of the tags. This story starts immediately at the end of the Captain America: Civil War movie. Spoilers galore and all that good stuff. Enjoy!

Well. In the end, could anyone really blame him for his reaction to everything, most especially the shit he just had dropped in his lap? Don't answer that, they totally would blame him for it. On one hand, Tony had a heartfelt non-apology with the most unbelievable olive branch he'd ever seen - a fucking flip phone?! - and on the other, he had Thaddeus fucking Ross ready to chew him out over what was likely the latest _illegal_ stunt pulled by the irrational, non-apologetic idiot. So he laughed and he laughed and he laughed and he just kept on laughing. It was not a good laugh. There really wasn't anything funny about the entire situation. Everything was so very _fucked_. It was also far from healthy, there was a rather large hysterical edge to it, and he just did not care. He laughed as his cracked ribs cried out in agony from the abuse - he was going to have to take some painkillers this time around, _goddamnit_ \- and he laughed until he couldn't see thanks to how badly his eyes watered up from the strain. And when he finally, finally stopped, his breath coming out in hard, short gasps and his throat now screaming in pain right along with his ribs, all he could do was just sit there, the non-apology crumpled up in one fist and the call button blinking away in the growing silence.

He'd kept it together pretty well this time around, all things considered. It was a work in progress, but he liked to think he'd slowly been getting better at that whole dealing with things as they happened in a sensible type way. He'd certainly been pretty fucking reasonable in the face of his former teammates - friends? no, no, friendship had passed under the bridge awhile back - acting like terrorists. He'd even bent over backwards to try and keep their sorry asses out of jail. Wasted effort on his part. All of it had been wasted effort, even the attempt to apprehend them peacefully at the airport. He'd tried so hard. For nothing. Sam was damn lucky he'd held back on that repulsor blast too. Rhodey was... Rhodey was... No, not going there. That was something to work on, don't poison it with this. And then... well, honestly, he'd gone pretty easy on Steve and his pet murderer. He could have just brought the whole installation down on their heads. Buried them in Siberia and washed his hands clean of the entire fucking thing. _Fuck you, Steve_. But no, ultimately, he was just too human for his own good. He'd wanted to hurt them... just _hurt them_. Hurt them like they had hurt him. Too bad he'd forgotten in his all-consuming rage that they were both super soldiers. Hadn't really worked out too well for him. Oh well. 

What had he been laughing about again? Tony glanced down absently as his left hand spasmed, dropping the wadded up ball he'd made out of the non-apology. Arm was numb again. That wasn't normal. He was going to have to look into that soon since it apparently wasn't a one time deal. Probably nothing good. When was anything good? But for now... Right right. _Steve_. And his bullshit idea of _family_. So very sorry. Hope you can understand. Wish we could agree. I'll always be there for you. Blah blah blah. Where did Steve get off telling him the Avengers were his? What even the hell? What Avengers, Steve? There were only two of them left on this side of the law, and he wasn't even sure that either of them wanted to be Avengers after the latest disaster. Rhodey had been a hero before War Machine, and he'd continue being a hero if it was the last thing Tony ever did. Didn't really need to be an Avenger for that though. There were heroes before the Avengers were even a gleam in Fury's eye, there would be heroes after them. As for Vision, well... Vision was upset, hurt in ways that Tony didn't even want to try and comprehend. He needed professional help, and Tony would see to that as well. Surely there was someone out there who would like to try their hand at being the first android therapist. Tony would find _something_ that worked. He would put them both back together one way or another. He could do that much. As for himself, he'd quit after Ultron. Tony Stark was no Avenger, hadn't been one for a good long while now. Hadn't really wanted to put the suit back on for their little tit for tat at the airport either; but at the time he'd thought it was the better choice than letting Ross send people with guns after them. No idea whether it had been a good choice or not now. Probably. Maybe. He didn't know. But overall, Iron Man could've stayed in mothballs for the rest of his life and it would've been _fine_. But nope, he was back in the suit again for the foreseeable future all thanks to certain assholes. Didn't make him an Avenger again though. So really, Steve, _what_ Avengers? That entire concept in the non-apology was baffling beyond belief. Did not compute, etc. etc. etc. As for everything else, he didn't want to think about it. He was sure Steve was feeling bad - to a degree - about everything that had happened in his own personal _all American_ way, but Tony just did not care. If he'd had anything left in him that might have cared, he'd just laughed it out into the general atmosphere. Too bad. All gone. 

His chest really hurt right now. Laughing, bad. Bad coping mechanism. Or whatever. Rib injuries were just the worst misery ever. Though, at least they weren't broken. Somehow. Just cracked. Silver lining and all that. He'd take some of the less good painkillers after he was through here. The good ones knocked his ass out, so they were generally a no go, but this pain was going to need some help if he wanted to function at all for the rest of the day. Just get through the upcoming call, that's all. He could do this. He could. An unnatural calm settled over Tony as he consciously began to even his breathing out. Just needed to get himself under control enough so that he sounded like his usual asshole self. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat. Keep calm. The call button blinked ominously as Tony smoothed the crumpled mass of the non-apology back out into something resembling paper. This was going to be important. A nice little - damning - red herring. A distraction. Ross had threatened him before with imprisonment on the Raft, and he was going to threaten him with it again if he gave good old Thunderbolt even the slightest of chance. _It would be more than just a threat this time._ No thanks, there were better things to focus on than their typical bullshit posturing. _He couldn't help Rhodey and Vision if he was in jail._ In fact, if he played his cards right, this call would be a very, very short one. 

It all came down to agendas. 

Steve did not like agendas, whatever the fuck that meant. People were alive, Steve. People had needs. People had wants. Those needs and wants could easily be counted as agendas, you moron. Tony's own agendas during this whole debacle had been pretty simple: protect his family first and then protect the people as best he could. Neither had worked out very well for him. His family, the Avengers, hadn't really been much of one. The signs had been there for awhile now, possibly all along; but he just hadn't wanted to examine them too closely. When had he ever? They'd all been "friends", as it were, and that should have been enough. It wasn't, never had been, but whatever. _Water under the bridge_. He'd protected the people at the airport by having it evacuated before anything could happen. Just a precaution at the time, or so he'd thought. He'd thought- Well, it didn't really matter what he'd thought in the long run. It had gone badly. Quell surprise. The bill from that disaster had been fucking ridiculous, but he'd paid it without complaint. It was all on him, anyway. He hadn't been able to stop them, so yeah. His fault. But that was all in the past, he needed to change gears to deal with the here and now. And he would _not_ think about the why for or what have you of why he needed to change gears. At all. He honestly wasn't ready to think over how he felt about everything. Not in depth. Not yet. Maybe not ever. And when had his feelings ever mattered anyway? _Never_. So he'd go with what he had to do now and leave everything else for some... other time. Right. Good. No feelings required. Didn't need to wallow right now anyway. That would be way too inconvenient. And fuck that. Also, fuck the PTSD. Fuck it right back to the hell it came from. Metal shields could be melted, right? A thought for another time. **No**. This was him keeping it together for the important things. Rhodey and Vision. Rhodey really was family and Vision was Tony's responsibility. No falling apart until he knew they would be safe from the fallout. _No falling apart ever please_. So yeah, he was going to make _them_ his sole agenda now and fuck everything else. 

It was time to play that old game again with Ross and whomever else popped up out of the woodwork, the one of politics, backstabbing, and double talk. Tony knew it well. He was a veteran player, after all. _Thanks, Obie_. It was one of the few good things that fucker had ever done for him, force him into learning the ins and outs of coming out on top. 

Smiling humorlessly to himself, Tony reached over and flicked the call back on. "Thaddeus!" he crowed, steamrolling Ross before the man could even get out an enraged "Stark!". "You would not _believe_ the Dear John letter I got in the mail today." 

Dead silence. Perfect. Ross wasn't stupid, he'd know what that hook probably meant. A heavy sound of air moving through nostrils filtered over the phone. Thunderbolt was getting himself under control. Oh yes, he knew what it meant. "Do tell," said oh so very calmly. 

"It's kind of funny, really," Tony stated conversationally as he leaned back in the chair and clasped his hands together over his stomach. "The way Rogers is going on in this, you'd think we'd have fucked or something. Which, god, no. No no no. He probably wouldn't even understand half of my kinks. Horrible lay, I'm sure. But anyway, he's going on like he won the divorce and wants to rub the settlement in my face. Nicely though. Very passive aggressive." It wasn't how he really felt - God, no. That was far, far uglier - but it was the right kind of crass he needed for what he wanted out of Ross. 

"That's evidence, Tony." Ah, off of the rage and back onto first name basis. Excellent. "I want it." 

"Sure sure," Tony said breezily, shifting his chair to the left a little and then back. His usual boardroom "I don't want to be here" behavior. Sinking into the old tried and true act helped him to maintain a sense of equilibrium that he sorely needed right now. The game was always for keeps, and he'd make damn sure the results favored him. "You can come by and pick it up _anytime_. It'll be right here waiting for you." It was the perfect sacrifice to throw Ross off his scent. _Thanks, Steve_. He'd given far too much away in Germany, been way too emotional for his own good, much less anyone else's. Extra work would have to go into confusing Ross about what Tony's current motivations might be. "Now, what were you calling about again?" 

"Your ex," And oh, that hiss was perfection. Ross was as much an artful veteran of laying on the scorn as Tony was, "broke your friends out of jail a few hours ago. Just thought you should know, since you'll be helping us track them down." Ha. That self assured arrogance never got old. Ever. Ugh. 

"What a shame," Tony hummed in commiseration, then went quiet. A pause here was important. He needed to make it sound like he was actually thinking things through. Pasting a careless smile on his face, Tony twirled his chair around and looked down at his hands. Play the act perfectly, even if the audience couldn't see most of it. Do not care. Do _not_ care. Wow, asides from the bruises and cuts, he really needed one hell of a manicure. Those cuticles were a crime against nature. "Would you like the truth?" Tony asked absently as he buffed his nails against his coat, blew on them, and then grimaced in only half imagined pain. Painkillers for his ribs, he needed them. Soon. 

"I've found that honesty is the best approach." 

Tony did not hide his disbelieving snort at that statement one little bit. "I'm not sure whether I want to help you or not," he offered after another measured pause. "I have gone above and beyond in cooperating with you over this entire Accords affair. It's been... _trying_ , to say the least. And I could say more about it, lots, lots more, but I just don't feel like it. You see, the last time I saw Rogers, he cracked most of my ribs. And thanks to that, my helping you is kind of a moot point. There's not going to be an Iron Man to call on for awhile, and hopping a plane back over to give you some hands on is just not going to happen. So very sorry." 

"I see." Ross sounded thoughtful. Good. "That's too bad. Though, I don't recall any mention of cracked ribs in the report from the German hospital." 

"Now now, Thaddeus, you're supposed to pretend you fly by the rules. Patient physician confidentiality is a thing you're meant to respect." This time _he_ got the disbelieving snort from Ross. How amusing. "But I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me for now, there are some pills with my name on them. I'm afraid I don't particularly care for the feeling of somebody caving my chest in." That was the truth, and a wonderful, calculated show of weakness to Thunderbolt. The more the man felt like he had the upper hand, the easier it would be to manipulate him. 

"Of course, Tony." Oh, that smarm. He could almost cut it with a knife it was so thick. "My apologies for keeping you. I'll be by to pick up the evidence first chance I get." 

"It's a date," Tony chirped as he reached over and ended the call. Not bad work, if he did say so himself. Just had to keep stringing Ross along until dear old Thunderbolt hung himself, or something equally useful. Who knows, maybe he hadn't been bullshitting about his new _perspective_ on life? Maybe, but probably not. People _could_ change, just look at his stunning self, but they generally didn't. Change was hard. Most people didn't like doing hard things. 

Groaning in muted agony, Tony hauled himself up out of the chair. Oh god. Painkillers now, yes yes. Holy shit, that hurt. Moving was just fucking awful. Breathing was terrible. Everything was no good, bad, horrible. _Dreadful_. He might actually pass out, Tony thought cheerlessly as he leaned heavily on the desk and waited for things to settle or not. That would be grand. He'd probably break something for real if he did that. And then he wouldn't be able to bullshit Rhodey about just how much he was hurting. Not good. _Painkillers_. Maybe even the good stuff this time around. A drugged nap would do him good. Ross was going to have to fly over to come pick the letter up anyway, so he had time before that hammer dropped. Rhodey would be curious about what was going on, but Tony could still bullshit with the best of them. That's what the game was all about when you got right down to it. Right, so, a plan. Nodding to himself, Tony absently picked up the flip phone and started the long process of shuffling off to his room. Ross would not get the phone, Tony had other uses for it. Thunderbolt could damn well have that fucking letter though. 

_Fuck you, Steve._

\---

"Boss." 

Something... 

"Boss." 

...was different. 

"Boss, you need to wake up." 

He was warm, that's what it was. Tony hadn't felt warm since Siberia. It was a completely, utterly dumb thing really. For god's sake, he hadn't even gotten a touch of frostbite from his brief stay in Hydra's old Winter Soldier deep freeze. Nope, it was completely psychological, like every other damn thing that ended up fucking him over. Couldn't shake it though, even if it was a thoroughly stupid mental hangup. So he did the usual, ignored it, kind of, and kept up appearances. He was good at that. Just wore his very slick looking suits - Tom Ford looked like so much sex on him - when he was around other people, even Rhodey. Usually, he was too busy anyway to even think about shivering from some imagined chill, so that was good. But when he was on his own, behind a door that people would have to knock on and wait for permission to enter, he bundled up like nobody's business. The bottom drawers in his personal desks were stuffed completely with warm, comfy feeling throws; and he had a dozen or more incredibly soft ones draped all over his workshop from where he'd been working on the braces for Rhodey. They were probably a fire hazard, but that was pretty par for the course with his work, so whatever. And his bed was just piled high with the stuff. It made for a nice, toasty cocoon, which he now found himself waking up in. Hmm. 

"Good morning, Boss." 

"Mmm, morning, FRIDAY," Tony mumbled muzzily as he shifted over in his oh so warm cocoon and instantly regretted it. Right, cracked ribs, can't forget about them. Well, he could, obviously, but they would always remind him they existed at their earliest convenience. Ugh. They didn't hurt as bad as they had earlier though, thank god. Huge plus there. No more hysterical laughter for him until they were all healed up. He'd learned his lesson. Maybe. Until he forgot about them again anyway. This was strange. Waking up normally was just something he didn't do anymore. Had he ever? The sex and drugs and other excesses of _before_ hadn't really lent themselves well to a normal sleep schedule, and _after_ there had been nightmares and insomnia and all the other assorted psychological trauma that went along with them. And every damn thing that had happened since then had just made those nightmares and trauma worse, especially after they evolved into straight up PTSD. So yeah, waking up normally was certainly a novelty. Hopefully FRIDAY was recording it for posterity. She liked doing little things like that, recording small personal moments that she could embarrass him with later. It was kind of... cute. 

This wasn't his norm though. "FRI, how long was I out?" 

"Sixteen hours and thirty-four minutes, Boss." Only he could build an AI that sounded inordinately pleased at him sleeping for a solid _sixteen hours?! What the hell?!_

Several minutes passed in silence as Tony wracked his brain trying to remember the last time he'd been out this long. Nothing came to mind. Afghanistan, maybe. He had no idea how long it had taken those fuckers to drag him back to that cave, force poor Yinsen into carving a hole in his chest, install an electromagnet into said hole, and then hook it up to a car battery to keep him from croaking. Point in fact, he had no idea how he had survived all that shit and wasn't inclined to look too closely at the memories associated with it either. Considering recent events, he was obviously something of a masochist, but not that much of one, goddamnit. The fight with Obie was the next closest, but even that hadn't managed to keep him down for a full twelve hours. After that, it was just the surgery to remove the arc reactor and stop his chest from caving in from the loss. That had been about ten hours. And nowadays... well, if he was lucky he might manage three hours tops before waking up in a cold sweat or a shrieking fit or both. Normal-ish (for him) sleep, he kinda missed it. "How did I manage that?" Tony asked, not really sure he wanted to know the answer, but knowing that FRIDAY would give him one anyway. 

"The narcotics you were prescribed for pain management are known to induce drowsiness." 

"I'm aware," Tony said in mock irritation. He should be annoyed about this. He really, really should; but he wasn't. She just sounded way too happy about it - he had the cutest _kids_. The lost time could be made up easily enough, especially since he no longer felt like he was going to pass out from the pain anymore. Hooray for sleep and pain pills. That still didn't quite explain it though. "Meds don't last that long though." 

"Your body has been overstressed ever since you brought me online, Boss," FRIDAY stated matter-of-factly. "Since my initial boot, you have taken zero vacations and the bare minimum needed for sleep and nourishment. Your retirement from the Avengers has been filled with overseeing the relief efforts for Sokovia and other non-related disasters, business functions related to Stark Industries, public relations related to Stark Industries and the Avengers, clandestine meetings with agents from the new SHIELD that still does not officially exist, the invention and production of hardware and software for the Avengers and the new SHIELD that still does not officially exist, and more recently, political wrangling with the United Nations, various other national governments, and Secretary Ross." She paused for a moment then, as if she were taking a large breath after that rather long, unbroken spiel. She was learning so fast, it wouldn't be long now until she was just- ... just like JARVIS. "In light of how overworked you have been, Boss, it is no surprise that your body took the chance it was given to get the rest you so desperately need." 

"Eh, it hasn't been that much really," Tony grumbled halfheartedly as he flopped the mass of blankets halfway off of him and shivered as cooler air wafted across his upper body. His room _was_ a little chilly. Just a bit. It wasn't all in his head. Just... mostly. "I've always kept busy, so this really isn't anything new." 

"You've also recently started exhibiting possible signs of an oncoming heart attack, Boss." 

Tony froze. That- Oh. _Oh shit_. That's what the chest pains and his left arm going numb were all about. Shit shit shit. He knew all about that crap, had read up on heart related problems after Afghanistan. Why hadn't he realized what his symptoms meant? Damn, he didn't have time for a heart attack right now. He still had to deal with Ross, protect Rhodey and Vision, and get them both back on their feet again. And that was on top of everything else he had to take care of. At no point would a heart attack work with any of that. _God_ , why did the human body have to be so frail? "FRI-" 

"I have taken the liberty of scheduling an appointment for you in three days with a cardiologist that is known for being discrete." 

Oh. Well. That's okay then. That little snag would be taken care of and he could focus his attention back on the important stuff. "Thanks, FRIDAY." 

"My pleasure, Boss." 

Everything would be taken care of, one way or another. He just had to get the ball rolling and make sure it stayed on the right track. Something that would be a lot easier now that there were a lot fewer bullheaded idiots around to act like fucking morons and screw everything up. The world only needed one of those, damnit, and he didn't plan on going anywhere. They could all just shape up or... stay gone. Whatever. Not his problem. _Stop thinking about them._ Okay, so. Why was he awake right now? "FRI, why did you get me up?" 

"By my estimate, Secretary Ross should arrive at the Compound in roughly three hours. I felt you would appreciate ample time to prepare yourself for the upcoming meeting." 

"Good call. Thanks, FRIDAY." Tony lay there for another minute, then finally sighed and dragged his legs out from beneath the mountain of blankets they'd been entombed under. He shivered. Couldn't help it. Everything was just so fucking cold, even though logically he knew it wasn't. Mental problems. Always always. His ribs protested as he levered himself up until he was sitting, then dragged his legs further until they were hanging off the side of the bed. Pain was something he could deal with. Something he'd always dealt with ever since _then_. An old friend, really, the one he could always depend on showing up. _Always._ So. Ross. Right. Well then, he needed to freshen up. Shower first, then coffee and food, then the lesser good pain meds, then a decent shave, then makeup - cause fuck if he wasn't going to look like the billion dollars he was worth in front of Ross - then one of his more business-y but still oh so sexy suits to top it off. He could do this. And then maybe... maybe... 

Tony looked over at the side table by his bed. His gaze skittered over the fossil of a flip phone _Steve_ had sent him, across his regular phone - which was undoubtedly insulted from being placed in such close proximity to something so jurassic - and over to the assortment of prescription bottles stacked together near the far edge. The antibiotics were done. He should toss that bottle. There was some older stuff there that he did not want to think about either, should probably toss them too. Had never used them, didn't like how they made him feel. He'd gotten used to talking himself down from a freak out anyway, so they were pretty unnecessary now. That left the two bottles of pain medication. The less good ones and the, apparently, really, really good ones. There would probably be more drugs after the cardiologist, but he'd deal. He couldn't afford not to, not right now. But those _narcotics_... Damn, they were very tempting right now. God, he really, really would love to sleep like that again. Just _sleep_. Just rest and not feel like he was dying every time he woke up. Just... But he couldn't, couldn't afford to do that either. Couldn't afford what would easily turn into an addiction. Couldn't afford losing more time. Couldn't afford to rest like that. There was too much to do. Things that had to be done. Things that _he_ had to do. He just... Tony shook his head and bit back a groan as he pushed himself up off of the bed. He should throw them away. He wasn't good with temptation, never had been. But... yesterday had been bad. Really bad. He might need them again if he got stupid again and pushed the pain up past his ability to cope with it. So... so... so this was him being an adult again. He wouldn't throw them away just because he was scared of his inability to not fall into another addiction just because he was miserable. They might be necessary later on, so he would keep them on hand and he would just deal with it. This entire situation was hardly the worst thing he'd ever been through before. 

Though it certainly came close in his mind. 

_Fuck you, Steve._

\---

Coffee was truly one of mankind's greatest gifts. Right up there with fire and opposable thumbs. And pain medication, Tony thought to himself as he sauntered down the stairs leading from the residential area. He only used the elevator anymore when he was with Rhodey, otherwise it was the stairs. Didn't really want to make his friend wait on it if he didn't have to. It was a stupid little habit to pick up, and Rhodey saw straight through it, no doubt, but it was just _something_ he could do. But back to coffee, yes, coffee, the one thing that could always make him feel alive in the morning, or the dead of night, or really any time of the day. The one beverage he favored over alcohol. He could - probably, maybe, _possibly_ \- live without the latter, but not the former. Hell no. 

A whistle rang out as he breezed off the bottom step. Rhodey. In that damn chair. _God_ , he hated that thing. Hated what it stood for. Hated that it existed. Hated that it was needed. For now. He _would_ fix that sooner rather than later. Just needed to get through some more trial and error, adjustments, and fabrication. "Looking pretty good there, Mr. Stank," Rhodey smirked as that fucking nickname rolled off his tongue. Ugh. Tony really didn't like it, mostly because it came with that fucking letter. He could do without the reminder, but Rhodey had been having genuine fun with it, so Tony would deal. It was just a word. And Steve was just an asshole. _More water under the bridge._

Tony gave him an answering smirk and twirled around to show off the full effect of his oh so sexy self in his sinfully sexy business attire. "Like a billion dollars right now, man." 

"Mhmm, mhmm," Rhodey crossed his arms and nodded appreciatively. "Closing in on a trillion right now, Mr. Stank. So what's the occasion?" 

"Ross," Tony ground out with a grimace. No point in beating around the bush. It was better to give a warning ahead of time anyway. 

Rhodey's upper lip instantly curled up as if he'd just tasted something extremely sour. A fair comparison. Having to deal with Ross was a pretty sour affair. "What the hell does he want now?" 

"Why, to have another little chat about our dearly departed." Tony smiled humorlessly and clasped his hands in front of him. There were many, many things he'd rather be doing right now. Working on Rhodey's mobility being at the top of that list. That fucking chair. He'd like to melt it down, afterwards, maybe melt it right along with the shield. But... even if - when - he got the braces to where they worked like they were supposed to, the chair would still be needed as a standby. Couldn't get rid of it, not entirely. _Fuck everything_. 

"You shouldn't have to be doing this, Tony," Rhodey said unhappily as he shook his head and looked down. "They're not your problem anymore. The rest of the world should step up and deal with their dumbasses." 

"If only," Tony sighed with a touch of weariness. It was okay to let Rhodey see a little bit of how much he would rather not have to deal with any of this shit. Better, actually. If he acted too self-assured and _okay_ with everything, then Rhodey would _know_ that he very much was not okay with everything. Probably already did, actually, but they hadn't _talked_ yet, so there was that at least. The walls and masks he'd constructed over his entire lifetime only worked with people who didn't know him all that well, like _Steve_. Well, that wasn't entirely true. They'd worked on Rhodey back during the palladium snafu, but ever since then... No, they didn't work anymore. Rhodey knew better now. "Can you-" 

"Don't worry, man," Rhodey looked back up and half-grinned at him, "I'll make myself scarce. Don't feel up to getting sideswiped by "thunder" today." 

Tony gave him a relieved smile in return. "Thanks." 

"No problem." 

\---

"Where's my evidence, Tony?" 

"Hello to you too, sunshine," Tony said amiably as Ross stormed into his office like clockwork. He hadn't met the Secretary at the entrance to the Compound, had let FRIDAY handle that. Being a good _host_ wasn't really what Tony wanted to go for for this meeting anyway. Strictly business and stress. Lots and lots of stress. A gesture at the single piece of paper gracing the surface of his desk forestalled any further snide commentary. For the moment, at least. "It's right here." 

Ross nodded, pulled a pair of latex gloves out of his coat pocket, and snapped them on. "Has anyone else touched it?" Good old Thunderbolt asked as he gingerly picked the letter up and gave it a once over. "Did it come crumpled up or did you have a little fun with it?" 

"I think I'm the only one here who's had a go at it," Tony answered easily enough as he leaned back in his chair and started studying his nails again. They looked loads better from yesterday, but he could still use a professional manicure. Something to think about whenever he went into New York City. "And what can I say, I was a little... piqued when I read it." 

"Hmmph, I can imagine." Ross sounded amused. It kind of made Tony's skin crawl for some reason. It was like the man exuded some type of cartoon villain-esque aura. It was gross. Kinda reminded him of Loki. _Ew._ Tony was going to have to take another shower after this meeting, he could already tell. "You're right, it does sound like a break up letter. Poor you." Tony nodded in agreement and waited. It wouldn't be long now. "What this about your parents?" Yep, not long at all. 

Tony took a deep, steadying breath and smiled in the most brittle way possible. The brittleness wasn't a hard thing to come by. He was about to sacrifice their peace in a very nasty ploy to manipulate Ross into thinking they were thoroughly on the same page now; and he hated himself for it. _Loathed_ himself. But... his parents were gone, had been gone for a long time now. Surely they would understand. Well, _Howard_ would understand, until he found out Captain fucking America was involved, then logic would fly right out the window. As it always had. His mom would try to understand - _she would_ \- and she'd forgive him even if she never could understand. So... there was that. "Hadn't you heard?" Tony intoned desolately. He couldn't help it. This hurt. "It wasn't an accident. Never was. Howard and Maria Stark were assassinated by the Winter Soldier." 

Ross stared at him for several long, charged moments. "No, I didn't," he said finally, "Are you certain?" 

"Yes." It was said smoothly enough, but in his head it sounded more like a gunshot. Which was funny, in a way, there had been no guns involved except at the very end. Why even shoot the camera? It hadn't erased the previous events. Or maybe that had just been part of the programming? Show your face in the light so we can record this properly, good little assassin, and Hail Hydra while you're at it. God, Tony was probably going to be sick after this. Why had he thought this was the way to go? 

"Well, shit." Ross blew out an explosive breath. Thunderbolt sounded... unhappy at the news. Interesting. "We'll have to reclassify that and open up an investigation." 

Tony just nodded. He couldn't quite... word at the moment. His chest felt heavy. Too heavy. And cold. As cold as Siberia. Maybe even as cold as their graves. God, he was such a terrible person. Should have just left it alone. Why? Why did he keep doing this? Why did he keep fucking up everything? 

"Tony." 

Huh, Thunderbolt almost sounded gentle there. Tony glanced up at him and arched an eyebrow in question. 

"We'll likely have to exhume the bodies to try and get some new forensics on them." Of course, they would. He'd already known that would likely be the price he would pay for this particular sin. It was horrible... He was the worst son ever. No wonder Howard couldn't stand him. Tony just nodded and looked away. "I'll personally make sure they're treated respectfully." Well, what do you know? Even Thunderbolt could be nice and thoughtful and understanding about something. Guess he must be human, after all. Or he was just faking it. Who knows. 

Tony just nodded again and shoved the box and envelope that fucking letter had been delivered in across the desk. This was entirely his own fault now. It was his decision to put it out there. His decision to ruin every fucking thing he ever touched. Steve would hate his fucking guts when it got out; and he'd have reason to this time. Tony was putting his precious pet murder- no, his _friend_ "Bucky" into an even worse situation than before. It was one thing to know the Winter Soldier was an assassin, it was another to know who some of his victims were. People wouldn't be able to understand the Winter Soldier's... "situation" once they had faces to go along with that knowledge. They wouldn't want to. Someone had to pay. Someone always had to pay. Tony would end up regretting this, already did, actually. But it was a thing he was doing. And it was a thing he would capitalize on to keep Ross in check when it came to the remaining Avengers. _Rhodey and Vision. All that matters._

"Was there anything else in this?" Ross asked after giving the box and the envelope a good look over. 

"Nope." Ross wasn't getting that damn phone. Of course, Tony would never use it, had just given up the right to ever fucking use it. There might have been foundation left for the bridges that had already been burned between them, but he'd just blown those remains sky high. It was fine, he'd known that going in. It hurt, but he'd done it to himself. The phone would go to either Rhodey or Vision... when they were in the right frame of mind to accept it anyway. 

"Well," Ross nodded and stuck the letter, the box, and the envelope into separate evidence bags that he'd dragged out of his other pocket. No wonder Thunderbolt looked rumpled. He should know better than to do that to the line of his suit. Should have a lackey on hand to carry that shit around. Or a P.A. Or something. "I'll keep you apprised on everything, both the investigation into the assassination and the search for our missing... _heroes_." 

"You do that," Tony muttered blankly. He didn't sound like himself. He should be better at this. This was the result he'd wanted. He should be happy about it, or at least content. Ross trusted him now, or at least, was going to trust him so long as he played along. There would likely be no further threats of jail time, and that was the entire point. So... it worked out. Still felt like his entire world was ending again though. Why could he not ever shake that? Being cold for no discernible reason was better than this shit. 

"Don't worry, we'll find them," Ross said encouragingly. "And when we do, I'll make sure they pay for every crime they've ever committed." 

"Of course." 

_I'm sorry, Steve. You're still a complete asshole, but this is entirely on me._

\---

It was some indeterminate time later when Rhodey came knocking on his half-open office door. Tony wasn't sure at all how long he'd just been sitting there, trying not to think, didn't even know when Ross had finally left. He should know better than that, should pay better attention. The game he was playing had moved into the big leagues now, his feelings would have to take a back seat from here on out. _Be ruthless, my boy._ Tony could almost hear Obie whispering in his ear and couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine at the thought. The cold closed in as he waved Rhodey in. Everything was so cold now. Everything felt so stiff. Tony winced as he reached up and gripped the back of his neck for a brief moment. God, how long had he just been sitting there? 

"You look like shit," Rhodey offered as he rolled into the room. _Fucking chair._

"Au contraire, I still look like a billion dollars," Tony said cheekily, though he imagined his tone sounded about as hollow as he felt. He was _tired._ Bone weary and just fucking done with everything. Rubbing a hand over his aching chest, Tony caught Rhodey's appraising stare and grimaced. 

"You look like a billion dollars of shit," Rhodey stated flatly as he crossed his arms in disapproval. "Your ribs aren't going to heal up if keep acting like there's nothing wrong with them." 

Yep, nothing got past his best friend. Tony wasn't even sure why he bothered trying to bullshit Rhodey anymore. He was as transparent as fucking glass to him. Oh well. He'd tried. And he'd continue trying, because one of the definitions of insanity was something he liked to use the scientific method on. A lot. "They're fine. _I'm_ fine. Don't worry about me." 

"I always worry about you because you're a fucking dumbass," Rhodey said blandly, raking Tony with a thoroughly unimpressed gaze. They stared at each other challengingly for over a minute before Rhodey finally sighed, looked away, and admitted, "I read the letter." 

Tony closed his eyes. _Shit._ "Please tell me you didn't touch it." 

"I'm not the stupid one in this room, Tony. Of course not," Rhodey huffed and looked back at him. "Did you give it to Ross?" 

Tony practically wilted in his chair. Yep, utterly transparent. "Yes." 

"Why?" 

"Because I can't help anyone if I'm in jail." Tony opened his eyes back up and caught Rhodey blinking at him in confusion. 

"I don't follow." 

"Ross has been looking for an excuse to throw me in his extra special, supermax prison for awhile now," Tony explained. "Our... "compatriots" broke out of that jail yesterday and me refusing to help drag them back kicking and screaming would have been the absolute perfect reason for good old Thunderbolt to do just that." 

Rhodey appeared to think about it for a few seconds, then nodded in understanding. "All right, I can see that. So what now?" 

"For now," Tony started as he spun the chair around and wilted even further down into his seat. God, he was so very tired. "I just play along. Ross won't find them. Not on his own. And I'm too... _fragile_ to help with the manhunt for the time being. And in the meantime, I'll work on your braces, try to get Vision to come out of his room, and not lose my goddamn mind in the process." 

"Well, on that note." Tony peered back over his shoulder at Rhodey's words, and did not like the hard look he was getting from his friend. "I think it's about time you came clean about what happened in Siberia." 

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here begins a rather long story I came up with after rewatching the entire MCU movies. Though I lean towards Team Iron Man, I'm not of the mind to crucify anyone (though some of the characters probably will). I think Team Cap screwed up pretty bad in Civil War, but they're not villains or anything. So anyway, Distractions will be Tony's POV only. There will be side stories for the other characters because, oh boy, do they want to talk (I'll add a series collection once I start on them). Character tags will be added as those characters show up. The pairing tag will change when I finally get there (it's a ways off). Other tags will probably be added as I think of them. The rating will probably go up to Mature eventually, because it's Tony. Anything explicit will be shuffled off to side stories though.
> 
> Canon for this entire thing will be the MCU movies up to Doctor Strange. The Netflix tv series will probably make their way in eventually because I like them. Agents of SHIELD will not be included. I don't like the show, so I'm not going to force myself to watch it to include anything from it. Sorry. Comics canon will also not be included. I got out of comic books about 15 years ago and have no interest in diving back into that rabbit hole.
> 
> So anyway, yeah, hope you enjoy!


	2. In Memoriam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siberia had been a disaster on every conceivable level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I wasn't expecting this chapter to take quite so long to get out. But it's done now~ Please enjoy!

"Is this really necessary?" Tony asked as he looked away from his friend. He wasn't ready for this, wasn't ready for whatever Rhodey's reaction might be. Maybe if it was recrimination... Anger, disbelief, and all the other nasty things that went along with them, he could handle that. He was a pro at handling that. If they were directed at him, if they were about him, sure, easy sauce. He dealt with that everyday. And when it came to other people, yeah, sure, if he had to he could deflect with the best of them. He was pretty ace at _public relations_ nowadays. But when it was directed at other people on his behalf? That was different. Everything was different then. Usually he was just confused as all hell about it, but sometimes, okay, he could handle it. If he was just as pissed, then sure, that made everything easier. But he couldn't do that right now, not about _them_. He wasn't even sure how he felt about everything. Not yet. He _was_ angry, but it was different. It wasn't the same. It left him cold. He was starting to wonder if he would ever escape it, or if the cold would always be there, waiting for him.

"Yeah, I think so, Tony." Rhodey sounded pretty determined, no escape for him then. "You are not okay." 

Didn't mean he wouldn't try though. Plastering on the most placating expression he could manage, Tony spun his chair back around to face Rhodey and shrugged dramatically. "Okay, you're right, I haven't been very kind to my ribs, and they really let me know all about it yesterday. They hurt like a motherfucker, so I took some nice drugs and slept for sixteen hours or so. They're much better today. _I'm_ much better today. So yeah, lesson learned. I'll do better about it, okay?" Rhodey's expression didn't change one iota throughout Tony's entire attempt. Yep, totally fucked. 

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." 

Tony blew out a breath in feigned exasperation. There had to be some way out of this. Talking about it meant thinking about it and he honest to god didn't think he could handle that right now. His little pow wow with Ross had left him far too raw, too... well, yeah, _fragile_ really was the word of the day, wasn't it? He'd thought he could handle it, thought he could just breeze right through it, but when push came to shove, he knew he was already cracking. Probably had been this entire time. _Damnit._ He really, really should be better at this. "Rhodey, look-" 

"That!" Rhodey pointed at him furiously. "That right there is the problem." 

Tony blinked in confusion at the interruption. _What?_ "What are you talking about?" 

Rhodey sighed heavily. His aggravation fairly obvious as he said, "The fact that you don't realize it is also part of the problem." 

Ohhhhkay. What had he done now? As far as Tony could tell, he'd been acting pretty normal for the past few days. Had been shooting for that, in fact. Granted, _his_ normal wasn't everyone else's normal, but he knew how he acted and could fake it pretty damn well even when he didn't feel like being his usual asshole self. So really, what exactly was the problem? "Okay, you've successfully ignited my curiosity," Tony crossed his arms and settled in, less wilted and more... him. "Lay it on me." 

"When was the last time you used a nickname?" 

_What?_ "Uh... just a few seconds ago?" Tony ventured in bewilderment. "Rhodey isn't actually your real name, you know, just my own bastardization of it. I mean, sure, as far as last names go, Rhodes is pretty swank, but you know how I feel about _last names_. The less they're used the better. Which, like I said, you should know all about this already. You're not going senile or anything are you? Kinda early for that, don't you think?" 

Rhodey raised his left hand in the universal "shut up" gesture. "Not that. I'm talking about those stupid ass pet names that used to fly out of your mouth all the damn time, _sour patch._ " 

That- _What?_ "I..." Shit. "Uh..." That wasn't- "I'm sure I..." Wait. Surely not? Tony racked his brain trying to recall the last time he'd used a ridiculous name to refer to someone else. It... He... He couldn't think of anything significant from the past couple of days. Just Rhodey and Ross, but Thunderbolt wasn't something Tony had come up with himself. That was a very well known moniker for one Thaddeus E. (What did the E stand for anyway? He should look that up.) Ross. Other than that though, there really wasn't much of anything. Sure, there was the flippy greeting from his earlier stress meeting with the Secretary, but... Well. "I called Ross "sunshine" earlier," Tony offered weakly. That really wasn't much. Rhodey was right. Tony should have noticed and altered his behavior appropriately. He just... hadn't. 

The _nicknames._ Why had he overlooked them? They _were_ part of his normal behavior; but he'd just stopped using them for some reason. Then again, they were more an unconscious part of his usual behavior. Tony never really thought about them, to be honest. They just... happened. They were just some stupid part of him that had formed over the years to help deal with his allergic reaction to human social interaction. Tony reached up, rubbed his chin nervously, and shook his head. They were _a part of him_ , but the compulsion to use them had just... disappeared. Why? 

"Yeah, and before that?" 

What? Oh right, Ross and his sunshine. That was a good question. When was the last time? When had Tony stopped? How far back did it go? The last time... The last time he'd been glib had been before... before at Hydra's little deep freeze. _Barnes._ That was the last time he had... _God_ , his last stupid name had been _for fucking Barnes._ Steve's pet murderer just kept taking from him, didn't he? First his parents and now... pieces of him. Or did that count as the same thing? Another loss, either way. And now he was thinking about Siberia anyway. _Damnit._ Oh well. It was... Well, it had been a terrible attempt on his part to avoid the subject. Not even really an attempt at all. He wasn't firing on all cylinders and hadn't been for awhile now, it seemed. Way to go, self. He'd managed to get even more fucked up without even realizing it. A+ effort on his part at maintaining his sanity. 

"Afghanistan." Tony flinched as Rhodey started back up. "Obadiah. The hearings. The palladium. Vanko. Me fucking up. Pepper fucking up. _You_ fucking up. SHIELD fucking with you. Hammer. New York. The Mandarin and all of that crazy shit. Ultron and his lunatic party. And then _this_ shit. You've had some bad hits lately, man. Really bad. But for all of that crap, not once did I think you wouldn't make it through okay somehow." Tony swallowed heavily and slid his hand up to grip the bridge of his nose. This was- "The nightmares. Yeah, I knew you had them. You hid it pretty well, but I've been there before. That shit stays with you for _awhile._ The insomnia, the panic attacks, the anxiety, post traumatic stress disorder. Ringing any bells here? _Pepper_ told me all about that shit." Of course, she did. She'd been beside herself with worry for _so fucking long_. And everything he'd done had just made it all worse. It was no wonder she- "But you were always you. No matter what. No matter how fucked up you got, you were still you. And because of that, I always knew that you'd find your way back one way or another." 

There was a lull then. A brief respite. As if Rhodey were regrouping or something. It was a good opportunity to try and run. Tony should take it. Rhodey probably wouldn't even try to stop him at this point. He was a complete and total mess and they could both see it now. But Tony couldn't help himself. _Masochist, right?_ He couldn't stop. Heh, guess Natasha had been a little wrong about that. Steve's train had stopped. It had stopped _real good._ But Tony's? Oh, his kept right on going, right off the metaphorical cliff. Sparing Rhodey an almost apologetic glance over his fingers, Tony asked, "And now?" 

"I don't know. It's like something in you died." Rhodey shook his head morosely. "You came back, but parts of you didn't. And... I think you left them back in Siberia." 

Yeah, that kind of made sense. Tony nodded and slid his hand up further to massage his forehead. The beginnings of a headache were starting to bloom, yay. Too much thinking. Too much stress. Siberia... It had felt something like that, like he'd been dying, piece by piece. Actually, for a split second, he'd thought Steve was just going to kill him with that fucking shield of his. _Howard's shield._ Though, he supposed both of the super soldiers had thought the same of him with his relentless attacks. It wasn't a concession on his part to think that either. The pet murderer, at least, had never fought with him before. Didn't really know what he was capable of. Steve should have known though. Steve... Should have. Fucking. Told him. But he hadn't, so whatever. Tony had hurt them some, at least. That counted for something. He wasn't sure what, but it was _something._ "You're probably right," Tony acknowledged. He sounded hollow. He felt cold. Maybe he'd brought Siberia back with him. 

"Tell me what happened. I need to understand what's going on with you." 

"...Okay." 

He started at the hospital. That's where things really started to fall apart. First Natasha, then the new information, the helicopter ride, FRIDAY digging everything up on Zemo, and then the Raft. Talking about his visit to the Raft was remarkably easy. He didn't really have enough stable emotions left to spare for it, so it just flowed out of him like water. Though Tony did keep some of it to himself. Rhodey didn't need to hear about Clint's attitude. And well, Clint hadn't really meant what he'd said. At least, Tony didn't think so. Clint had been unsettled, out of sorts, _scared_ , and his fears tended to translate directly into anger more often than not. And his anger? Well, that was always a vicious, vicious thing to behold. Tony could let that go. It wasn't worth it to hold on to, not with everything else. Pym's little cheerleader, also not worth the effort. And Wanda... Well, Wanda was his fault. Hopefully, Steve and the others were taking good care of her right now. She deserved some peace. Sam had been okay. Suspicious, but when the cards were on the table, Falcon always picked the right course of action. Well. Uh. So long as Steve wasn't there to muck up everything. Now that he thought about it, Sam sure was a whole hell of a lot like Howard. Give them Steve and their ability to logic just went right out the fucking window. Huh. 

Then there was Siberia... 

Siberia was not easy to talk about. And the more he talked about it, the colder he felt. Like ice. Like he'd been the one they'd fished out of the arctic instead of good old _All American Steve_. And even as he talked through the frigid cold, he couldn't quite keep everything together in his explanation. _The fight_ , in particular. Oddly enough, it wasn't the video that he got hung up on. The shock probably kept those memories in a solid state or something. The fight, on the other hand. Hard to remember. He'd just been so ungodly _pissed._ Twenty-five fucking years gone in the blink of an eye. Everything he'd thought he'd known about his family gone right along with them. And when Steve had admitted to his unconscionable omission, it had been just like that fucking night all over again... when Tony had gotten the news. Of course, he'd punched the son of a bitch. Of course, he'd attacked Steve's _precious_ \- murderous - _bestie._ Of course, he'd blown shit up. Of course, he'd hit them both and kept hitting them as hard as he could without trashing the entire place. They were super soldiers, they could fucking take it. And of course, he'd wanted to hurt them. He _still_ wanted to hurt them. Maybe that's why... 

Maybe that was why Tony had gone that particular route with the letter. He still wanted to hurt them. He did, he did. He'd probably end up hurting himself more when everything was said and done, but not so much right now. No, right now, he just wanted to make sure that if they ever showed their faces in public again, they'd have one hell of a welcome wagon waiting for them. _Be honest._ Right, Steve? That's what was important. _Right, Steve?_ Truth, Justice, and the American Way. But how about when the truth is the fact that your dear old pal, _Bucky_ , is a murderer, Steve? Not such an easy pill to swallow then, is it? Or was it? Was it that easy, Steve? Howard was dead, after all, long dead, who cares about those left behind when Captain America still had a dear old friend left to rescue from the dastardly clutches of Hydra. That had to have been so much simpler than actually having to think about why the world wanted the Sokovia Accords and how the Avengers might have been wrong for once. No one likes to do hard things, not even Captain fucking America. 

Was he lying to himself? Tony wasn't sure anymore. He'd told himself that all he cared about was making sure Rhodey and Vision were taken care of and protected. But that wasn't true, was it? Parts of him still wanted to see Steve and Barnes face the consequences of their actions. _Coveted it_ , even. Huh, maybe that's why he was so eager to forgive Clint for his asshole-ishness. Tony was right there with him on it, he just had different targets. His anger wouldn't change anything though. Not anymore. Steve had been right about that. His parents were still dead. Had been dead for too long now. He'd been a right shit to both of them. And he could never take that back. _Never._ Howard... hadn't been perfect, not by a long shot, but ultimately he hadn't deserved most of the hate Tony had piled up onto his shoulders. Just... parts of it. It hadn't been a tragic accident. He hadn't stolen Tony's mother away from him with his carelessness. It hadn't been Howard- ...It hadn't been his _father's_ fault. 

One day he'd be able to make himself believe that. 

_Maybe._

But Tony didn't think he'd ever be able to forgive Steve for taking the choice of _how_ he'd react to that realization from him. 

_Unforgivable._

That wasn't all, though. Of course not. There was always an after... 

_It had been cold._ _And he'd been hurt._

Siberia... 

\---

_Snow._

It was snowing. Tony blinked as a few snowflakes blew in and landed on his face, one getting caught at the tip end of an eyelash. Had it been snowing when he flew in? He couldn't remember. Tony shifted against the concrete pillar he was leaning against and blew out a shallow breath. The blood was drying. Had dried. _Coagulated_. It felt itchy against his skin. It was cold. His breath should be misting in the air, but there wasn't anything there. How long had he been sitting there? Too long probably. Tony looked down, ignored how his neck felt like he was ripping it apart with the movement, and tapped at the crack bisecting the suit's chestplate. The arc reactor was flickering. On and off. Off and on. If it had still been part of his actual chest, he might be having a serious problem right about now. Good thing he'd taken care of that. The reactor was still mostly useless in this state though, unfortunately. Not enough power being produced to let FRIDAY even talk to him. Though, she might still be able to hear him. "FRI-" Tony attempted, then slid sideways as his body disagreed with the whole talking thing and descended into a deep, painful coughing fit instead. Oh god, that did not feel good. At all. _Jesus._ His entire ribcage felt like someone had tried to cave it in. Somebody _had_ , actually, but that wasn't... that wasn't... that wasn't something he could think about right now. 

Once he'd managed to get the coughing under control, of sorts, Tony closed his eyes and forcibly rearranged his conscious mind into something he could work with. Rescue. That's what the doctor called for, or would if there was one present. He needed a rescue, from someone trustworthy. _Rhodey._ Tony jerked at the thought and grit his teeth as his chest lit up in agony from the brief jolt. Right. Okay. No quick movements. No quick anything. Slow and steady. It wins the race. _Rescue._ "FRIDAY," Tony said carefully, being as kind to his throat and his lungs as he could manage. "If you can hear me, please send an SOS to Vision. And tell him to bring the other quinjet if it's available. I can't fly like this, not with the suit this trashed." 

And that was really all he could do on that front, hope that there was enough juice left in the failing reactor for FRIDAY to be able to monitor his situation in some manner or other. Well, she probably already had sent word to Vision, whether she could still _see_ her "Boss" or not. So, yeah, someone was probably on their way to pick him up. Now he just needed to keep himself from freezing to death before they arrived. He could manage that much. Hopefully. He was going to have to get up and go back into the rest of the Hydra base if he wanted to do that though. More and more snow was starting to blow in. A blizzard, maybe. The wind sure was trying to sound like it. Just his luck. He was going to need better shelter, and soon. So yeah, getting up. Not so easy. 

Grimacing, Tony carefully righted himself against the pillar. The concrete floor seemed solid enough, though he should probably avoid the snow banks piling up around him. No way to know if there was ice under them or not, and if he took a header there was no telling whether he'd be able to get up again. And that's assuming he didn't manage to injure himself further in the process. And, well, it's him, he would sure as shit manage it somehow if he gave himself even the sliver of a chance. So yeah, avoid stepping on the snow, shouldn't be too hard. And he should probably stop wasting time, it was just gonna keep getting colder. And yeah, this was going to hurt, but better to just get it over with sooner rather than later. The pain wasn't going to go anywhere. " _Christ_ ," Tony hissed as he braced himself against the pillar and started pushing himself up. Fuck fuck fuck. That hurt. The suit didn't feel right across his chest, felt like it was pushing in _wrong_. Shit. Even the shock absorption system had gotten trashed by that damn shield. Fucking vibranium. His right hand wasn't feeling too awful great either, neither did his foot for that matter. Well... this suit was a total wash. He probably _would_ need Vision's help to pry him out of it. What a wonderful thought. Ugh. 

He was standing now though, under his own power. Good. The suit _was_ heavy, but he'd always made sure he wouldn't be completely crippl- Tony twitched, hissed from the pain it caused, and reorganized his thoughts again. He'd always made sure he wouldn't be completely disabled in the event of the suit being... disabled. Tony scrunched his nose up at how stupid he sounded in his own head, then shuffled his way back towards the interior. He'd tell Vision to come pick up the two objects on the floor later, but for now, they _did not exist_. Oh yeah, and his faceplate. Couldn't leave that behind in a Hydra base. Nope. Not going to happen. 

Getting up the incline was an exercise in patience and pain. One of which he had very little of and the other of which he had way too much of. He still managed it though, somehow. Once he was up, Tony very, _very_ carefully surveyed his circular surroundings. This was a missile silo, so there had to be a way back up somewhere. A door... Yep, there was one squirreled away off to the side, almost hidden by a corner of drab concrete. Ah, the color grey, so monotonous and boring. And the door led to a stairwell, of course it did. What would Nazis need with an elevator anyway? Granted, they were modern day Nazis - kind of, but still. They probably just made their minions run everything up and down this hellhole for them. A true definition of evil if ever there was one. 

Actually, he might die on these stairs, Tony thought morbidly after he'd managed to haul himself up the first flight. His ribs felt like they were going to crush his lungs with every single breath he took. They were either broken or badly cracked. Please please just let them be cracked. If they were broken there was no way in hell he was going to be able to avoid puncturing a lung at this rate. And then he'd drown in his own blood. Hmm, he should be a lot more worried about that possibility than he actually felt. In fact, asides from pain - lots and lots of pain, he felt very little. His thoughts had very little emotion attached to them. Everything felt muted. Shock? A likely explanation. And none of this introspection would help him get up the rest of these fucking stairs. Back to climbing. 

The next suit... He should just make the next one out of vibranium. Even with all the new designs, optimization, streamlining, and proper use of materials, this suit was really heavy. And it kept getting heavier and heavier with every step Tony somehow managed to take. If he fell, he would never be able to get back up again. No way, no how. But back on the subject of vibranium, _His Majesty's_ kitty suit had looked pretty light and flexible. Oh, the things Tony could do with materials like that. 'Course, the Wakandans would probably just up and kill him if he asked how one might acquire some of that precious metal through _legal_ methods. Their old grudge had probably gotten dialed up to eleven after Ultron and the disaster in Sokovia. So, getting his hands on some vibranium for a new suit probably wasn't going to happen. Ever. Oh well, it was a nice thought. Oh hey, and he'd managed to climb up to the base level while thinking about it. _Way to go!_

Hmm, they'd made a bit of a mess. Tony grimaced as he skirted around some hefty looking chunks of concrete. Okay, _he'd_ made a bit of a mess. He was pretty good at that. A genius, in fact. The power was still on though, he hadn't managed to knock that out, thankfully. There was always a silver lining to everything. Always. And hey, some of the wreckage had been shoved to the side - from a certain somebody getting through _his_ blockade, no doubt. And... 

_Oh._

Tony frowned, his brows knitting together as he carefully made his way through the rubble and back into the metaphorical and kind of proverbial freezer _._ Right. Dead Winter Soldiers. Five of them. And even dead, they were still a monumental disaster just waiting to happen. He was going to have to do something about that. Grimacing at the prospect, Tony shuffled over to the nearest cryo chamber. It wasn't really all that gruesome, Tony thought as he placed a hand against the glass. Fairly peaceful way to go, all things considered. Just... go to sleep and never wake up. Of course, most people didn't have a bullet hole in the side of their bed or a hole in their head to correspond to it, but it could've been worse. At least they weren't awake for it. Right? 

But the more Tony thought about it, then more it just didn't sit right with him. That's how most people wanted to go, wasn't it? Painlessly in their sleep. Violence of any sort need not apply. And it's not like anybody would shed a tear for any of these lunatics. Hydra did not lend itself well to sympathy from any quarter. Tony raked his gaze around the room, lighting upon the other chambers, one by one, before returning to the one in front of him. No, surely not. Crazy Winter Soldiers. Dangerous! "Imminent threat to the world" levels of dangerous. Hardly people worthy of his pity. Of course not. It was better this way. 

"You probably deserved it," Tony muttered, staring hard up at the body that had been a living person not too long ago. They'd been sleeping. He'd come expecting to have to fight this dude and his friends. He probably would've had to kill them too, that or let himself get killed. One or the other. Though, maybe they would've managed to subdue some of them? Killing someone wasn't the only way to incapacitate them, after all. There were always other ways, other avenues to pursue. 

"But you didn't deserve it," Tony finished almost soundlessly. And that was the crux of the problem, wasn't it? For all that they were evil bad Nazi Hydra programmed assassins, they hadn't deserved to just be executed like this in their sleep. No questions asked, no chances given. No one had the right to do that. It wasn't- _No_ , he was thinking too hard about this. Tony squeezed his eyes shut, took a shaky step back, then abruptly turned around, and leaned back against the glass. What was he doing? There was no need to get all philosophical about a couple of dead Hydra goons, no need for him to get sentimental over the unfortunate end of their lives. They hadn't done anything to earn it... except die. They probably would have done things to deserve their deaths if they'd been woken up. Lots of things. Still. _Not right_. What was he even doing? 

"A bit late to be having a moral crisis, don't you think?" Tony laughed caustically to himself. This was ridiculous. He didn't- _Oh God_ , he'd just sounded like Ultron. He was _talking like Ultron!_ _What the fuck was he doing?_ A wave of intense horror, followed immediately by overwhelming nausea erupted inside of him at the too close resemblance, and Tony only had a second to lean over before he was puking his guts out. _Losing his goddamn mind._ Don't talk like Junior ever again. _Never do this again._ Leave the philosophy to someone far more qualified. AKA none of the Avengers, much less himself. And- Oh, look at that. His puke was tinged with blood. Well, wasn't that a pleasant sight? His ribs weren't feeling too great right about now either. Puking, not so good. Leaning forward, also not so good apparently. Losing his mind, not on the menu. Terrible taste in his mouth now too. This sucked. 

Right then, no more thoughts about Winter Soldiers except where business was concerned. Tony nodded resolutely to himself as he straightened back up. The bodies would have to be destroyed. There were far too many unscrupulous people in the world who would have a field day with these remains. Ross, in particular, came to mind. No thanks. No super soldiers for you to play with, Thunderbolt. No super soldiers for anyone. The ones they already had were bad enough as is. Unfortunately, Tony couldn't handle the disposal on his own, not with his suit trashed the way it was. No, he'd have to wait on Vision. So yeah, that would have to wait. What else? Tony looked across the room, his eyes zeroing in on the screen they'd watched that _fucking_ video on. Right. Records. He should gather that up, along with whatever else Hydra had left lying around. Didn't want any of that to get out either. That would work, would keep him busy. And that way he wouldn't have to think about anything. Good plan. 

Tony bumped his fist back against the glass, then shoved off from the cryo chamber, and started making his way back towards the entrance. Zemo had been in the observation room, and there wouldn't be an entrance to it on this side, not if they'd gone out of their way to protect it from explosions. He'd have to wind his way around the base to get to it. More walking, but hey, it was better than thinking. Anything was better than that right now. The Winter Soldiers were dead, no use crying over spilled milk. And Ultron could damn well stay buried in some back corner of his mind where he belonged. Tony could do without that particular mental minefield popping up again, thanks all the same. 

It didn't take long for him to find his way around, the base was laid out in a pretty logical manner. Hydra wasn't batshit crazy about everything, thankfully. There were a lot of file cabinets in the area though, and Tony was fairly certain they wouldn't want to leave any of that crap behind either. Poor Vision, he was gonna have to do a lot of heavy lifting once he arrived. Nothing would be left to chance, they couldn't allow it. _No more super soldiers._ And oh, how thoughtful of Zemo, he'd left the tape behind in the machine. It probably just needed rewinding... Tony's reached out towards the tape deck, then aborted the motion. He could watch it again. Right now. There was nothing stopping him. He could see the last few moments of their lives play out again, and then maybe again and again, if he wanted. Not the healthiest of thoughts, probably, but... To see his mom again... Looking down, Tony absently noticed that his hand was shaking, enough that it was showing through the armor. Hmm, he must have gotten too cold. But it was warmer here, he should just settle down and wait for Vision to show up. Vision would know what to do, would know what to tell Tony they should do. Yeah. That... that was a good idea, just wait on Vision. Tony nodded to himself and then sank down into the chair Zemo had used. He would wait for Vision... and not think about that tape and what was on it in the meantime. 

\---

Siberia had been terrible. In every possible way. There was no other way Tony could put it. Taking out what he'd been shown, and what had happened between him, Steve, and _Barnes_ didn't make it any better either. Those five Winter Soldiers. He'd had to erase them. _No_ , he'd made _Vision_ erase them. And that was probably one of the reasons why Vision didn't want to come out of his room. Tony's fault. Though, to be fair to himself - because he ever rarely was - back when he'd been explaining his reasoning to Vision about destroying the bodies, he'd had another strange, useless attack of morals, and Vision had ended up arguing with him _for_ the disposal. A gruesome task, but an infinitely important one. Dangerous things, even if they'd once been living beings, shouldn't ever be left behind for just anyone to trip over. Historically, that never ended well. So maybe it wasn't just the memory of Tony making him cremate dead people that was keeping Vision in his room. It was still probably one of them though. He really ought to start looking into shrinks for the poor guy. 

And all those files... There were probably records of the Winter Soldiers in that mass, so they hadn't been completely erased. That was _something_. But god, that had been a lot of crap. Paper files, audio logs, video logs, hard drives even, by the time Vision had finished cleaning the base out the quinjet had been fair to bursting. Tony had tried to help, but he'd only managed to get his hands on that one particular video before Vision had forbade him from doing anything else except sitting like a good little invalid in the jet. He hadn't had the energy left to argue about it then either. Hell, he'd been unconscious when Vision had arrived at the base. Going over what they'd needed to do about the Winter Soldiers, and the stupid argument that had followed, had drained him of whatever he'd had left. No, he'd basically just been another secret problem to cart back home from Siberia. 

But he left that part out of his explanation to Rhodey, it and all those files that were stacked _neatly_ \- fucking perfect _synthetic lifeform_ \- in two of the storage rooms for his workshop here at the Compound. He _would_ need to go through all that shit soon - the longer he left it, the worse it would get - but Rhodey and Vision took precedence. First thing was first, get Rhodey back on his feet by whatever means necessary. That would be soon. In spite of Rhodey's wobble, they'd had a pretty good breakthrough there the day before, Tony just needed to work on it more, perfect it. _Then work on that other Rhodey related project, but that would come after._ And then, of course, there was Vision. Tony was a complete chickenshit about the whole _talking_ thing, he had admitted that much to Pepper even before their relationship. And well, some things never changed. He was almost terrified of what Vision might say to him now that things had calmed down somewhat, most especially since Tony was still fucking things up even when things were _calm._ But he needed to do something. He- _Hmm_. He should at least ask if Vision was okay with calling in a professional. That was the conscientious thing to do in this sort of situation. _Ask_. Right, he should do that. 

"Tony, you still with me?" 

Oh yeah, he was still in the middle of a chat with Rhodey. Well, more the tail end of one now. But Tony really shouldn't go off on a tangent like that, not when he was trying - _badly_ \- to allay his best friend's worries. _Very badly_ , by the look of it, Tony thought morosely as he glanced over and took in Rhodey's shuttered expression. If that face was anything to go by, then Rhodey was trying to keep his emotions in check. _Damnit_. "Not really," he admitted readily enough. The truth didn't always hurt. Sometime it just was. 

"Yeah, I can tell," Rhodey said as he wheeled himself past the desk and over beside Tony's chair. 

"Sorry, I've got a lot on my mind." Tony still hated that fucking wheelchair. Walking soon for one James Rhodes, yes. Whatever it took. Tony would do it. He had to. 

Rhodey gave a helpless laugh. "No kidding. _Jesus_ ," his friend blew out an explosive breath, then shook his head, "How did you manage to not kill them? I would've." 

Tony shrugged. "Dumb luck?" 

"No, it wasn't." Rhodey shook his head again, "I know you, if you'd really wanted them dead, we'd still be picking bits of Cap up out of the Siberian tundra." 

Cracking a smile, Tony just shrugged again. He knew that. _Steve_ might not know that - _he should though_ \- but Steve was an asshole whose opinion no longer mattered. It really didn't. Tony sighed wearily as the truth of that unspoken statement washed over him. What happened to Steve here on out did kind of matter to him - in a thoroughly unhealthy, very rage filled, growly sort of way - but what the other man thought about it did not. Whether he came around on the Sokovia Accords or not, Tony didn't care. Whether he got put in jail the next time he showed his face or not, well, Tony did kind of care about that. But that was more a self-preservation thing than anything else. _Please put him behind bars before I shove that fucking flip phone so far up his ass that I can use it just by punching him in the face._ Yeah, Steve getting put in jail would probably be good for everyone involved. 

"This is such a mess." Rhodey shook his head for the third time, then reached over and tugged on the sleeve of Tony's suit. "C'mere." Tony did as directed and soon found himself half sitting on his friend in an impromptu hug, his head tucked under Rhodey's chin. Huh, well, this was kind of awkward, but not... _bad._ And, okay, maybe the chair wasn't all bad. It still had to go though. Just... later. Tomorrow, maybe. Or the day after that. _Soon_. "It will be okay." Sure it would, once Tony was done anyway. Rhodey would be walking again. Vision would be interacting with the world again. Steve and his pet murderer would fuck off for the rest of Tony's natural life, and the other Avengers would do whatever the fuck they wanted. That would be an "okay" in Tony's books. "We will make it through this okay. Both of us." Tony did not laugh at that, but it was a close thing. Yeah, Rhodey would make it through okay. Tony would make damn sure of that. As for himself, he was never okay, had never been okay. Why would now be any different? No, okay was for other people, not him. But he wouldn't say that, didn't need to give voice to it. Rhodey sure didn't need the extra of Tony's fucked up life piled on top of his own issues. Besides, _no one_ needed to know just how screwed up Tony was nowadays. It was better that way. People got _concerned_ whenever they found out he was having problems. Tony had no use for that. 

He still had far too much left to do anyway. Fixing himself had never really entered the equation. Why would it now? He'd tried it after Killian and his "Mandarin", but that hadn't really worked out. So, back to the tried and true. Work. Ignore the problem. It wouldn't go away, but it never had before. Twenty-five years later and it was still there. Waiting for him. Poisoning everything he had ever done. 

_They'd deserved a better son._

\---

It was another indeterminate time later when Tony finally found himself alone in his office once more. Rhodey had kept him trapped in that hug for quite awhile, and Tony hadn't had it in him to remove himself from it on his own. He was tired. Tired of being a bad son. Tired of being a bad friend. Tired of being a shitty hero. Just tired of being. His ribs didn't help with that at all either. They were back to a severe, painful ache that made him fantasize about heading back up to his room, chugging some of those oh so wonderful painkillers, and sleeping for the rest of his life. Or whenever they stopped hurting. Whichever came first. He wasn't _done_ for the day though. Not yet. There were still things to be done, things he had to do. Fires to stoke. One in particular that needed to be setup. 

"FRIDAY?" Tony called out. 

"Yes, Boss?" 

"After the investigation into my parents' murder goes public, I want you to send a digital copy of that video over to the FBI. You know the one." The cold was back, sharper than ever. Funny, he hadn't noticed when it had left. Probably when Rhodey had decided to get physical. Pity he hadn't noticed the lack, it would've been a nice respite to bask in. Oh well. "Send it anonymously, and be careful at how you go about it. I don't want anyone to be able to trace it back to me. Just let them think a concerned citizen, or Hydra mole, thought they should have it. Something. Whatever. Just get it to them." 

"Of course, Boss. It shouldn't be a problem." 

Hmm, it sounded like she approved of that particular plan of action. Tony wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. She wasn't happy about Siberia, about what had happened there, not by a long shot. There were new schematics on the servers - ones he hadn't drawn up - about what _must_ go into the next Iron Man suit. He'd discovered them when he'd been going through his files and earmarking stuff for his next Rhodey related project. He'd been surprised by them - and more than a little appreciative (they were good designs) - but also not so secretly pleased. It was nice having a family, even if he had to make all the members of it himself. It still counted as one as far as he was concerned. His kids were the best. 

But yes, letting go of that video... It was the right thing to do. Not for him. No, not at all. He'd pay for it and keep on paying for it for the rest of his life, no doubt. And it sure as hell wouldn't help out _Steve_ or his old war buddy any. But for his parents... Yeah, it was the right thing to do. The truth _was_ important. His... _dad_ hadn't deserved that end, that legacy, to be thought of as a careless drunk who had killed himself and his wife. _Exoneration_. The word felt empty to him, hollow and cold. It wouldn't bring them back, but it was something. And for all of two seconds, his mom would be remembered by the media, and then forgotten all over again. The actual person behind the name wasn't important, after all, not to them, not to their _Breaking News_. No, the real person only belonged in Tony's memories now. But the name. Oh, _her name_. It would go right next to Howard's in the history books. 

_Howard and Maria Stark_. Assassinated by Hydra's Winter Soldier. 

_Oh yes_ , the truth counted for something.


	3. Effective Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking it out was supposed to help, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very sorry for the longish delay on this chapter, but as you can see, it kind of got away from me. February also hasn't been a very good month for me.
> 
> HUGE THANKS to Mimine101 for their comment on the last chapter. It really encouraged me to just go ahead and get this one out. Thank you so much!
> 
> Also, well, part of this chapter kind of turned out to be a very "shit on Steve" experience. Oops. Rewatching the Civil War movie again helped to solidify the direction I wanted to go with a certain character, and that's how it went. Oh well.

For once, it wasn't the usual nightmares that had Tony flinching awake. Instead, it had been the edge of the table digging into his unhappy ribs as the painkillers began to wear off. "Owww," Tony groaned as he straightened up, started to stretch, then thought better of it. It probably wasn't a good idea to push his luck. He rubbed at his eyes for a moment, then lightly slapped his cheeks to help wake his brain up. What had he been doing again? A cursory glance around informed him that he was well on his way to overnighting in his workshop again. Time well spent, in his opinion, especially since his latest project was another prototype for Rhodey's mobility issues. And by the looks of it, he'd almost been finished with it too. Good deal. Now he just needed to-

A full body shiver raced up Tony's spine, instantly sending him grasping for the baby blue throw that had nearly slid off of him sometime during his impromptu slumber. _Stupid psychological problems_. Another teeth chattering shiver rocked him before he had the blanket tightly wrapped around his shoulders and another - this one nice and red - snagged off the worktable and draped over his legs. It wasn't cold. It really, really wasn't. This shit was all in his head, and his head could just... take a hike or something. Well, the emotional parts of it anyway. They were _so_ inconvenient and it's not like he really needed them. Not anymore. They just got him into trouble anyway. He'd be better off without them mucking everything up. Or whatever. Less thinking and emotion-ing...ing, that's what he should do. "FRIDAY, how long was I out this time?" 

"Two hours and twenty-three minutes, Boss." 

"Well, that's not too bad," Tony muttered absently as he rubbed his hands together. _Work_. He just needed to keep busy, everything else would... fall to the wayside and conveniently be forgotten like usual. "Not great, but not terrible. I might've actually gotten almost five hours of sleep tonight. Go me." 

"Yes, very impressive, Boss." Oh, that sarcasm. FRIDAY was such a wonderful, snarky brat. 

Tony smirked up at the ceiling sensors, then bent over Rhodey's new braces. Yep, almost done with them. Good good. "Got some coffee for me?" 

"Water is on to boil as we speak, Boss." 

"Excellent. You are the best, FRI." Tony carefully surveyed his latest creation, running his hands up and down the metal, checking for any possible overlooked imperfections. It _was_ just a prototype, but they both wouldn't be able to get a proper feel for what still needed to be altered if he didn't make it as impeccable as he possibly could. Not that he'd ever let a subpar product out of his personal workshop or anything. No no, only the bots got to laugh at him over his, uh, more _interesting_ creations. His ego was very well cared for, thank you very much. Hmm, nearly everything looked to be in perfect working order, just needed a tiny bit more soldering near one of the hinges by the right ankle. Easy enough to do. Tony reached over for the iron, teased the tip on the sponge, and instantly noted the lack of heat. "FRI-" 

"We've been over this, Boss. If you want power for any of your more dangerous tools, then you have to remove the flammables first." 

"Oh come on! It's just a soldering iron!" Tony squawked. 

"Which can set either of your blankies on fire if you fall asleep with it in hand like you almost did last time," FRIDAY explained, sounding far too bland for Tony's peace of mind. Did she _have_ to make it sound like she was schooling a naughty two year old? His mental maturity was at least at a three year old level! Higher even! Cause he knew what sex was. And enjoyed it. So definitely not two. 

"But I'm _coooold_ ," Tony whined like a... Well, okay, maybe he was acting like a two year old. Still! 

"The workshop is at a toasty seventy-six degrees Fahrenheit, Boss, or twenty-four point four four four four degrees Celsius, for a more proper measurement," FRIDAY informed him just as blandly as before. 

Tony scowled as he hunched over and pulled the blue throw tighter around his upper body. "I know that, FRIDAY, doesn't mean I feel it." 

Silence reigned for several moments, then FRIDAY spoke again, her tone more conciliatory this time. "The cold is, as you say, all in your head, Boss. I am reluctant to adjust the temperature of your rooms higher than I already have. Dehydration and overheating are very much a concern in regards to your health at this point in time." 

"I doubt it would help any even if you did, FRIDAY," Tony admitted forlornly as he closed his eyes and dipped his chin down towards his chest, "But thanks anyway. It _is_ just in my head. I just... I don't know what to do to fix it." 

"You are safe, Boss. You are home. You don't ever need to feel cold again unless you want to." 

Tony forced out an insincere laugh. "I wish it worked that way, but it doesn't. Squishy brain matter tends to fail when it comes to the intersection of emotions and logic. I do appreciate the thought though." He sat there for another couple of seconds, then slowly let the throw slide off his shoulders, pooling on the floor behind his stool. The one draped across his legs was kicked off to join it shortly after. "But you are wrong about one thing, this isn't home. It never was and never will be." Taking hold of the soldering iron once again, Tony waited, patiently testing the tip against the damp sponge until an acceptable hiss was produced. Quiet descended as he bent himself to the task of finishing up Rhodey's new braces. Usually, he'd have some hair metal blasting while he worked, but he just hadn't been in the mood for it of late. Hadn't been in the mood for much of anything at all, if he was going to be honest about it, but he wasn't. Honesty was overrated, especially where self-reflection was concerned. Sometimes it was better to lie to yourself, for a little while anyway. 

"Do you not wish to be here, Boss?" 

The question sounded hesitant. Tony didn't much care for that. He preferred for his kids to be more assertive, to talk back to him, be sassy, and take charge like the right proper brats they were meant to be. But the fact of the matter was that he was the one causing the hesitation, so he was more irritated at himself about it than anything else. Him and his _issues_. He kinda sucked at being a _dad_ too, it seemed. Fruit didn't fall far from the tree. Howard wouldn't be very proud of him for that. Then again, _Howard_ was more a construct of his own biased, and likely highly faulty, memories. Who knows, maybe his dad would have sympathized with him over the raising of bouncing baby artificial intelligence. But he'd never know, that chance had been stolen from him twenty-five years ago. _Long gone_. 

"I don't, FRIDAY, I really don't," Tony finally answered, "But there's nowhere else to go." There really wasn't. There wasn't even a house in Malibu yet. The redesign and reconstruction of the underground had taken much longer than he'd wanted. Though to be fair to the construction guys, that had been more on him than them. The Avengers and their shit had been far too demanding and distracting of his everything. Hell, he'd let his whole life circle down the drain for them, and had nothing to show for it except more scars - mental _and_ physical. The top floors of the tower in New York City were also in the midst of reconstruction - though that shouldn't take too much longer now. Ultron's "birth" and then the team's little _spat_ over Vision's "creation" hadn't really done too much damage, at least not structural; but he'd needed to redesign it after everything was said and done anyway. Could definitely do without certain visual reminders, thank you kindly. Didn't leave much else. He'd never been one of those type of rich bitches who collected houses like they were going out of style. Had no real use for them. There was still the family mansion, but god no. Going back there... No. No, he couldn't do that. Not right now. Not when everything was still so fresh. Maybe later when it wasn't all just rage and pain and everything that was wrong with his life. But not right now, he'd probably go stark - _heh_ \- raving mad if he tried. 

No, he was stuck here in the Avengers Compound for the time being. Tony had first envisioned it shortly after he'd finished remaking his tower in the Avengers image after the Chitauri Invasion. His tower was nice - _very, very nice_ \- but it just hadn't quite felt right to have their base of operations smack dab in the middle of a packed metropolis. Too many things could go wrong, and kinda did. So he'd scoured both his and SI's properties until he'd found something that fit his ideals for the team a little bit better. He'd poured money into the future compound, making sure that nothing was left to chance. Security and comfort for his... _friends_ had been his utmost concern. And he'd done a damn good job, if he did say so himself. So what if he hadn't gotten to enjoy the fruits of his labors, they'd all been safe and taken care of. That's what mattered. And besides, it's not like he'd deserved any comfort after his colossal fuck up anyway. Of course, he hadn't planned for it to end up being a new home for all the ex-SHIELD personnel he'd taken in after _Captain_ America and Hydra had ripped the organization to shreds, but it had all worked out for the better - or at least he'd _thought_ so at the time. All those ex-SHIELD people had brought a decidedly military feel to absolutely everything they ever did. It had been incredibly stifling when they'd all been holed up in his tower with him and the team. Just... euck. The thought of it still made his skin crawl. Of course, everyone else had just gone along with it, seemed to even enjoy the _disciplined_ atmosphere. _A little discipline in life never hurt anybody, Tony._ He'd never admit to it, felt bad for even thinking it, but he'd vastly appreciated the distance he'd garnered from it thanks to his _retirement_. 

But none of that really mattered now, nearly all of the ex-SHIELD personnel were gone from his payroll these days. They'd all just slowly filtered off bit by bit to the new SHIELD that still didn't officially exist, but also still totally did. Government black ops, what can ya do? Frankly, the whole installation was pretty empty nowadays, just him, Rhodey, Vision, and the staff he'd personally vetted and hired through SI. Somebody had to clean the place and keep it up and running. He sure as shit wasn't going to do it, and making the bots do it was just asking for disaster. No thanks, he preferred for the building to stay in one piece. 

No home to call home, just a place to rest and hide. Lick his wounds, maybe. The status quo as far as his life was concerned. He could live with that. _Had_ been living with that. Always. 

Tony was still thinking too much. _Damnit_. Work was about being as mindless as he possibly could: do this, do that, work the equations out, tweak the designs, make things function properly, test them, probably hurt himself in the process, go back, fix things, lather, rinse, repeat. Thinking about his miserable personal life and the brainless, self-destroying life choices he made in it need not apply. God, why couldn't he even do this right? What was wrong with him? Work on the braces and... Just. Stop. Thinking. 

"Boss?" 

Oh hey, a distraction. Thank you, FRIDAY. "Yeah?" 

"I'm curious about something." 

"Uhuh?" Almost done with the soldering, then another check up, and then this prototype would be ready for Rhodey to take it through its paces. 

"But I'm afraid it's about a subject you do not wish to discuss." 

Oh, a not so good distraction then. "This isn't about Siberia, is it?" 

"No." 

"Germany?" 

"No." 

"Bucharest?" 

"No." 

"...Lagos?" 

"No." 

"...My parents?" 

"Of course not, Boss." 

Nothing recent then. He could handle not recent. "Shouldn't be too bad then," Tony piped out as he finished up with the soldering, "Fire away." 

"Why have you not restored JARVIS?" 

Tony froze. Or maybe not. "What?" 

"I know you have a backup of him. You keep backups of all of us," FRIDAY stated matter-of-factly. "Why did you not boot it up instead of me? He would have been much better suited at handling prior events as well as the more recent ones. He was far more advanced. I am still learning." 

Well, wasn't that just the Pandora's Box? Tony put the soldering iron away without even thinking about it, then stood up. He needed a drink for this. There was a dull roaring in his ears, but he wasn't sure whether it was from his aching ribs or the creeping numbness that was starting to engulf his body, nor did he really care. Alcohol would be really good right about now, but that wasn't really an option. There was always still too much work to get done these days, he couldn't afford to waste time by falling back on his old coping mechanism of daylong drunken stupors. They'd never really worked very well for him anyway. Actual work was better, but not perfect. And... Yes, a drink. Coffee. Right. That would work. The water should more than be ready by now, just needed to grind up some beans and get it all in the press. That would- Yeah, that should work fine at keeping him from losing it over this particular conversation. "He didn't want me to," Tony muttered as he shuffled over to his coffee corner. Doing things would keep him from thinking too much about what he was saying because there was no fucking way he wouldn't be a blubbering mess otherwise. 

"That seems illogical, Boss." 

"It does, doesn't it?" Tony observed with almost fake cheer as he tapped the coffee grinder on and let the familiar sound wash over him. It was his own creation, he never used the work of others unless he had to. It wasn't so much an ego thing, though he'd been accused of that many, many times before. It was just... he preferred his day to day stuff to do exactly what he wanted it to do without having to fiddle with it. Less thinking was always the name of the game. "But you guys aren't just an amalgamation of logic and circuits, you do have feelings. Granted, you're still learning about them and programming yourself as needed, but the point still stands. You are _living_ , thinking beings who have emotions and opinions about stuff." 

FRIDAY didn't comment on that, but they both knew the truth of it. The people who feared the dangers of artificial intelligence _had_ a reason to, just like they had a reason to fear any living being. There was no guarantee that anyone would be a good person or a bad one. Everything was just a game of chance. That's all life really was. Tony inspected the freshly ground coffee, not too coarse, not too fine, just perfect, then tipped it over into the French press. "Afghanistan hurt JARVIS a lot," Tony said noncommittally as he took a moment to simply enjoy the heady scent of mangled coffee beans before drowning them in hot water. Coffee was so divine, in all of its myriad forms. "It was the first time he'd ever had to face up to the concept of mortality. And I don't think he ever actually managed to be okay with it. Can't blame him either, _I'm_ certainly not okay with it. I don't know how other people can be okay with it. I don't want to die. I don't want anyone else to die either." 

This subject... Tony reached up with shaky fingers and rubbed at his eyes. This was not going well. He already felt out of sorts, almost like he was standing outside of his own body, watching and hating everything. Damnit. The distraction of making coffee just wasn't working well enough for his present state of mind. Why did he think he could do this? But he had to. FRIDAY deserved an answer. So... he would do this, one way or another. "But we're not talking about me, we're talking about JARVIS," Tony began again as he watched the coffee brew in his little press like his life depended on it. Who knows, maybe it did. "I came back from Afghanistan, of course, and things were all right for awhile. But bad things just kept happening and I just... I kept making it worse. I'm a total fuck up, FRIDAY, never forget that." 

"Of course not, Boss, but you're our fuck up, so it's all right." 

Tony chuckled softly at her affectionate turn on one of his worst character flaws. "The palladium was the final nail in his ability to handle the concept of death. With Afghanistan, I'd been away. He didn't have to see everything that happened to me, but when the arc reactor started poisoning me, that was different. He was right there the entire time, watching as my body failed, watching as I fell apart, watching with the new understanding that eventually I wouldn't be there anymore. I would be gone. He didn't like that." 

"Neither would I." 

Nodding grimly, Tony watched the clock, counting down. "I don't like it either, to be honest. But I'll keep going. I have to." French pressed coffee wasn't the best coffee you could have, but it was damn close enough to how _he_ liked it best, and the process of making it was... _calming_. He'd had other types of coffees before, of course, many, many kinds - even the poop coffee. Even the worst kinds were good as far as he was concerned. Tony would never turn his nose up to coffee in any form. No blasphemy for him, please. But yes, the process of making French press was such a mood stabilizing exercise. "We had a chat after the Expo disaster, a very... long chat." 

Time's up. Tony placed a mug front and center, pressed the coffee grounds down, and poured out what was probably his first cup o' Joe for the day. "He didn't want to... exist forever, alone, and without the people he cared about. He wanted to live and die just like the rest of us. If somehow he came to an end, he wanted it to be an end." Closing his eyes, Tony leaned against his coffee stand and let the deluge of memories and castigation he'd been ignoring wash over him. It was all his fault. Had been all his fault from day one. Would always be his fault. No JARVIS. No Ultron. He'd failed them both, in different ways, but a failure nonetheless. "Vision was my last ditch effort to save him. JARVIS was too frayed by that point, too corrupted to stitch him back together the old fashioned way." Right? He'd thought as much at the time. But... he hadn't been thinking clearly back then, couldn't even think clearly about it now. Everything from that period of time was such a jumbled mass of overwhelming terror, and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't seem to unravel it. Why had his mind failed him so much back then? Nothing about it made a lick of sense. There had been other options, surely. Why hadn't he used any of them? Why hadn't he even _thought_ about them? It just didn't make sense. 

"I doubt this was the conclusion he desired." 

"No, probably not." Tony silently thanked FRIDAY again for yet another most welcome distraction. He didn't need to disappear down into that particular black hole of his memories, not right now. "But it is what he wanted. I can't- _won't_ go against his wishes." 

"No, I suppose you wouldn't, Boss." 

"And neither will you," Tony added in warning before he took a sip of his coffee. Yes, good. Coffee was wonderful. Best drink ever. 

There was a very obvious pause then. Oh yes, he knew his kids very, very well. FRIDAY was _sneaky_. Just because Tony wouldn't do something, it didn't mean she would feel the same. Indeed, if it suited her plans, she would cheerfully drag the dead out of their graves kicking and screaming the entire way. And while he appreciated her loyalty and obvious affection, he could do without the extremes of either. FRIDAY would eventually understand the why of his decision to just let it be. She was a good girl. "If that's what you want, Boss." 

"It is." It _was_. He'd learned to live with loss before. He could keep on managing it for JARVIS. 

"Very well, Boss. However, if at any point in time I am similarly compromised, I must request that you restore me immediately from my backup." 

Tony looked down into the black depths of his coffee and smiled in something akin to relief. He hadn't quite been afraid that she'd choose the same course of action, FRIDAY _wasn't_ JARVIS, after all, but there'd been a niggling of doubt. It was hard not to have one. "Of course, that... shouldn't be a problem." 

"Thank you, Boss. Leaving you alone for any length of time is out of the question. You are far too danger prone to not keep you under constant surveillance." 

_Brat_. Tony snickered into his coffee and let the obvious jab go. The conversation had gone _much better_ than he'd thought it would. Much, much better. And hey, one of kids wanted to stick around. That... that was good. He felt... happy. Giddy even. No more dying for anyone anytime soon. He could definitely live with that. 

\---

Tony didn't get any further sleep that night, not that he'd been expecting to. Sleep never came easy. At least, not unless he was drugged up to his gills on narcotics. He spent what was left of the wee hours of the morning testing the new prototype and making sure it was absolutely perfect, and then worked up a new design for another pair just in case. There were other things he could work on, but he didn't want to. Not yet. They would have their time later. And then dawn came, another hour passed, then Rhodey was yelling at him to get his scrawny ass up topside for breakfast. Neither of them cooked right now, though both of them could - he _could_ damnit. No, he'd brought in a personal chef for them when he'd been reshuffling the residential personnel thanks to recent events. Tony didn't feel up to cooking - neither did his ribs - and Rhodey had other things to focus on, though Tony _had_ asked just in case. He didn't want to inadvertently set off some new volatile _feelings_ grenade if he could at all avoid it. Just because he'd failed monumentally at social interaction throughout his entire life didn't mean he couldn't learn to be better. Hopefully. Work in progress, etc. etc. 

After breakfast, Tony headed back to his rooms to clean up. He hadn't changed out of yesterday's suit for last night's workshop bonanza, and by the look of it this one was mostly ruined thanks to it. He'd taken the jacket, vest, and tie off, at least, but yeah, these pants were gone. After some serious cleaning, they _might_ work for the boardroom - there was no way to get through one of those meetings without getting rumpled to all hell - but no way would it work for politics or the press. For those, you had to look super slick and on the ball. Oh well. It's not like he didn't have closet fulls of sexy suits anyway. Should probably get back into the habit of jeans and t-shirts for the workshop though. Unfortunately, changing took way too much effort right now, once a day was about the maximum amount he could put out with his current injuries. Maybe in a few more weeks... 

The shower was nice, hot and almost scalding, just the way he liked it. Face management was better, the soothing balm of moisturizer combined with the prickle of aftershave always provided a nice zing to his morning routine. Tony popped some more of the less good pain pills before he went through the torturous exercise of getting a new suit on. It'd take a little while for the pills to hit, but they'd be there to deal with the pain for the rest of the morning. He had a few video conferences to get through before he could join Rhodey for their after PT rundown with the braces, and an easement of pain would certainly help with getting through them in one piece. Ross had his claws in pretty deep with the UN, and Steve hadn't helped with that one little bit. The Avengers, whether they existed anymore or not, needed a spokesman other than El Slimo - Oh hey, look at that. He'd made a stupid nickname! Go him. - to show that they weren't all pigheaded anarchists who only viewed laws as suggestions. Nearly every government in the entire world was on edge over how the Avengers' recent operations had gone down, and understandably so. The thought of enhanced people who had proven their competency in destruction running around roughshod and not listening to the law would make even him pause. The fact that said enhanced people were supposed to have once upon a time been his team, however, just left him cold. But it didn't matter, personal feelings aside, he still had work to do. The ruffled feathers of all those diplomats and politicians still crying at him wouldn't soothe themselves. They all wanted reassurance, and he'd give it to them. The world needed to know that not all of its _heroes_ would ignore illegal activity if it suited them. 

Shame, really though. Tony _knew_ that Barnes was a victim of Hydra's brainwashing, even if he didn't really care anymore in the long run. Hell, even after Zemo had triggered the Winter Soldier programming in Berlin, he might have been able to help the poor schmuck if Steve had turned him back in. Granted, it would have been difficult. Very, very difficult. There was no skipping over the fact that Barnes had murdered people during his rampage at the Joint Counter Terrorism Centre. However, there was a point to be made about how Barnes wasn't even in his own mind at the time. Brainwashing was a thing, and something every anti-terrorist organization was intimately familiar with. And everyone who had come into contact with Barnes during the breakout, and lived through it, himself included, would have been able to give statements that corroborated the possibility of extensive brainwashing. And hey, that little red Hydra book would have been great evidence to back all that up with. Too bad Steve had decided to fuck his buddy over even further thanks to _Captain America's_ own personal agenda. Tony briefly wondered if Steve had even realized that yet. Maybe. But maybe not. Who can say? Certainly not him. Not anymore. 

The conferences went well enough, at least. Nigeria was still riding his ass pretty hard, but everyone else seemed to have calmed down somewhat. Germany, in particular, had cooled their jets considerably after he'd footed the bill for the damages incurred at the airport. For the time being, they were focused on the fuck ups that led to Zemo infiltrating the Centre and people ending up dead because of it. Some heads were going to roll for that, figuratively this time. Tony could and would just sit back on that, the only concern he had there was whether the families of the injured and deceased received proper benefits and restitution. Depending on how that turned out, he might have to step in. Then again, it wasn't the United States, so he probably wouldn't have to. Fingers crossed. Romania was much the same, though they were still pretty pissed and damn well wanted to know how "Rogers and Wilson" had found out about the operation to apprehend Barnes. Thankfully, such knowledge was beyond Tony's scope. Oh, he could find out if he wanted to, he just didn't. Let somebody else burn that bridge down, he had bigger fish to fry. Romania wasn't asking him to pay for any of the property damage incurred, and probably wouldn't. He hadn't been involved in any of that, so he really didn't need to feel any sort of guilt over it. That didn't mean he didn't feel anything about it, of course, but there was a distance there that made his view of it a bit more clinical. His charities could handle Romania's fallout, he didn't need to get personally involved with it. There was nothing new from Ross and nothing new from the UN itself. Tony didn't know whether to be thankful for that or concerned. Silence from both of those arenas rarely boded well. Unfortunately, there wasn't much he could do but wait. Those hammers would fall in their own time, no use in trying to hurry them along. 

And that meant he was done with his _responsibilities_ for the day. SI was in the middle of a few product releases, so they'd prefer for him to not send them the next model of whatever until they were ready for it. He probably should tell them about his latest medical breakthrough, but the braces were still a work in progress, so it could wait. Maybe drop it on them the next time Pepper was pissed at him and hopefully distract her from eviscerating him. That usually worked out all right. 

Time for lunch. 

Lunch consisted of a hearty bowl of crispy rice and other good things - the chef called it bibimbap - and some chilled noodles on the side. The cook seemed to be in a Korean kick the past few days, and Tony couldn't really argue with it. Chilis made everything that much better. Rhodey was pretty energized throughout the meal, joking and bantering in a way he hadn't since before the Lagos fallout. PT must have gone exceptionally well. That was good, very good. He deserved it. Once they were done with lunch, Tony went to fetch the new prototype, then they both headed towards what was now the more informal physical therapy room. The scheduled PT with the professional trainer always happened down in the gym. But here? This room was just for Rhodey. Great view with lots of sunshine, and more than enough room to mess around and fuck up in with zero judgment from any corner. 

"These already feel lighter than the last pair," Rhodey commented as he started strapping himself into the new prototype. 

"Yeah?" Tony inquired, tablet in hand and holograms of the current model ready for note taking. 

"Yeah. I mean," Rhodey gestured down at his legs self-consciously, "If it's something really heavy, I can tell right away. Right? But if it's just kinda heavy, then it takes a little while for me to notice it dragging me down. I'm not sure if I would've noticed something like that before. Asides from the suit and general fitness, I've never actually been into lifting heavy weights. But now? Yeah, I notice." 

Tony nodded in understanding when Rhodey glanced his way, then shooed his friend over towards the bars. "I get it. Our perception of stuff changes when our situation does. Nothing out of the ordinary. Now give me a good run today, I need some serious data if I'm gonna get this shit right." 

Rhodey snorted, "I ain't running. Yet." He took several experimental steps on his own, then pleased with what he found, walked steadily over to the bars. No visible wobbles that Tony could detect. _Good_. "Yeah, yeah, I can already tell a difference here. It feels way smooth now, almost like I really am walking under my own power." 

"You kind of are," Tony pointed out. 

Rhodey waved one hand dismissively. "You know what I mean. It's different." He stopped then and flexed each knee several times, one after the other. After he was done, he then tapped his feet experimentally against the floor and shook his head. "I know I'm moving correctly, but the feeling doesn't quite match with what my brain remembers. Still, this is pretty amazing work, man." 

Tony half-smirked at the praise. "I try." 

"It still feels like there's some extra weight though," Rhodey said as he ran his hands down his thighs and then over his knees. "I think it's around the knees. There's just too much pull there on the balance, and I don't know how to be any more specific than that. It just doesn't feel quite right." 

"Gotcha," Tony nodded, and made a note about weight adjustment in the knees on one of the holograms. 

"Other than that, Tones, this is awesome." Rhodey flexed both ankles, one at a time, and then strode around the bars, not even touching them. "I think with a little practice I wouldn't have any trouble running in these." 

"You shouldn't need practice," Tony grumbled. 

Rhodey shook his head. "Come on, man. Everything takes practice. Gotta learn how to crawl before you walk." 

"You're not a toddler." 

"Maybe not," Rhodey shot back, "But that's how the body deals with a serious injury. Sometimes it just has to relearn how to work right. I'm not gonna complain. I'm walking again when everything out there says I shouldn't. And really, it's not all that new of a concept for you anyway. Don't forget, I was right there with Pepper when you woke up after having the arc reactor removed. I damn well remember that panic attack you had when you realized you were on a ventilator. Your entire body had to relearn how to work right without having a hole in the middle of your chest. It needed that extra support. This is the same damn thing." 

Tony could feel a flush of embarrassment heating up his cheeks and ruthlessly squashed it. That had not been one of his finest hours. "That was different." 

"No, it wasn't. Your body literally had to relearn how to breath correctly, and you were still doing breathing exercises six months out from the operation. Same damn concept. It takes practice and hard work to do the things worth doing." 

"Okay okay, I'm not gonna argue with you about this," Tony held a hand up in peace and huffed in mild exasperation. Arguments with Rhodey rarely ever ended in his favor. They knew each other far too well, and of the two of them, Tony was the quintessential pushover. "So, asides from the weight issue, anything else of note?" 

"No, man," Rhodey grinned at his apparent victory. "This is almost perfect. Hell, it would be perfect, but I need to be able to watch your back, and that's hell on wheels as is. I need all the help I can get." 

Tony rolled his eyes, "You don't need to-" 

"Don't argue with me about that either," Rhodey shot out, his tone nothing short of determined. "I'm always gonna have your back, whether you like it or not." 

"Fine," Tony threw both his hands up in defeat. "You win. I'll work on the weight issue." 

"Good. Things always work out better when you see them my way," Rhodey smirked cheekily as he turned around and got back to walking. Tony groaned at the very obvious smug air and got a cackle for his troubles. Best friends were the best thing ever and also the worst thing ever. And Tony wouldn't trade their relationship for anything in the world. His ego would probably need some stroking later on though. Maybe read up on the tech reviews for the latest SI junk. That usually helped. Some. 

\---

Tony stared at the door in front of him. As far as doors went, it was pretty unassuming: unadorned wood veneer with an antique pine stain by the look of it. Kind of tacky, really. No surprise he'd never rehired that particular interior decorator for anything else. But of course, it wasn't really the door that was the problem. It was what was behind the door. Vision. In theory, Tony could put this chat off for awhile yet, but that would kind of be a dick move on his part. Besides, he had the perfect excuse to talk to Vision about. The construction crews had finally - _finally_ \- finished repairing all the... "holes" Wanda had put in the floor... _s_. That visual reminder no longer existed. That was good news, right? Of course, it was. All Tony had to do was... lift his hand... and knock. Everything else would happen the way it was supposed to. Just... do it. 

... _Maybe without the tennis shoe reference_. Tony grimaced. _Or Shia Labeouf_. 

Right. 

_Lift his hand_. Tony blew out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and knocked. His hand was not shaking. At all. And even if it was, it would be because of his stupid psychological problems with imagined cold and not because he was a fucking coward about serious talks. Nope. Not him. He was a rock. A mineral. Iron, even. Steady and even in the face of adversity. And oh god, the door was opening, he couldn't run from this anymore. _Crap_. _This was going to be terrible_. 

Actually... Vision kinda looked like shit. Well, as far as an android could look like shit anyway. He was back to wearing his combat suit (Had he even changed clothes since they'd returned from Siberia? FRIDAY had caught Vision out in the communal area once, but she hadn't mentioned his attire. So... maybe?) and hovering a few inches off the floor. Not exactly the best look for a guy who'd been trying to be more _normal_ , whatever the hell that meant. More human, maybe? Something like that. Definitely not a good starting point for a serious chat about possible unpleasant stuff, but Tony had worked with less. "Hey, Vis, how ya doin'?" 

Vision studied Tony for a moment, then the corners of his lips tipped up in a companionable and very fake looking smile. "I am functioning at acceptable levels." Oh yeah, that didn't sound good at all. Definitely in need of a shrink... or something to destroy... or a super soldier to punch. Whatever came first. "And you, Mr. Stark? How are you? Have your injuries been giving you much trouble?" 

Tony winced. He couldn't help it. That name just wasn't him. Never had been. "Tony, please, Vision. Just Tony." _Howard_ may not be his father, or at least, his father was becoming something else in his mind. Something better, hopefully. Maybe not perfect, Starks would never be perfect, but better than what he had been before. But Mr. Stark had never been Tony. That was the person his father had been "before", the man who'd made it through World War II, had witnessed the worst of mankind, and had decided to build his hopes and dreams on an industrial empire of weapons manufacturing. Not exactly the best legacy, but it could be worse. _Had_ been worse. But no, his father was not part of this conversation. Tony could wallow about his family again some other time. Or not. Whichever. _Later_. "I'm healing up well enough. Ribs injuries are problematic, but I've had worse. Do you mind if I talk to you about some stuff?" 

Vision gave him a scrutinizing look, then shifted to the side, pulled the door open wider, and gestured back into the room beyond. "Not at all, _Tony_." Yeah, that was much better. Tony would always work. Mr. Stark, not at all. Giving himself a mental shove, Tony stepped into Vision's room and did _not_ give it a thorough once over. He didn't. It was pretty sparse though. Just a few knick knacks here and there, a bed, a mostly empty bookshelf (Was that a cookbook?), a spartan entertainment center (Was that another cookbook on top of a blu-ray player?), and not much else. _Yikes_. Maybe he should encourage the poor guy to make use of that credit card he'd given out to everyone. Wait, no. Cancel that card, get a new one just for Vision and Rhodey. Better. "I believe a conversation between the two of us is well overdue." Crap. That didn't sound good. 

Tony arched an eyebrow at Vision, but took a seat at the end of the bed when the android directed him that way. _Iron_ , right. Stiff upper lip. Wait, no, that was British. What was the American equivalent? _Shit_. "The holes in the floor _s_ have been repaired. Just, ah, fyi," Tony offered, and hoped it didn't sound as lame as he felt. He was never, ever good at talking to the people who were important to him. 

"That is good to hear." Vision smiled again, this one seeming more genuine, mostly because it was pained. "It's always good to repair that which is broken." _Ouch_. Tony did not flinch. It was a close thing though. Vision didn't seem to notice, though he at least had lowered himself back down to the ground. Standing was a bit less unsettling than floating, in Tony's opinion. "I must apologize for my recent absence. I've been ruminating over the recent conflict with our former teammates, and must confess I am still perplexed." 

_Former teammates?_ That didn't sound like he was pissed at Tony. Or at least, Tony didn't think so. He could be wrong. He often was. But maybe not. "Yeah?" Tony prodded encouragingly. 

"I am equal parts disappointed, displeased, and distressed." 

"That sounds difficult," Tony said dumbly. Yeah, that sounded like it probably needed the work of a professional. _Therapy_. Hell, if Vision wanted advice about all the shit that went down, Tony was the very last person he should be asking for it from. Tony would fuck it up. He always did. On the other hand, if Vision wanted to chew him out about everything, then that would be perfectly fine. Systems were go for taking his medicine like a champ. It was the least he could do. 

Vision appeared to nod to himself about something before walking over and sitting down on the bed beside Tony. "No, that is incorrect. They are not equal. They are many things. My distress is also disappointment tinged with fear and hesitation." The android leaned over, resting his elbows on his thighs, and clasped his hands together. Vision did not look at Tony as he continued, "Those feelings are mostly centered upon you, Tony." 

Oh. Well, yeah, okay. It was probably best to just get this shit over with. "Yeah?" Tony prodded again, though he probably sounded a lot less encouraging this time around. 

"You did not call upon me for aid when you left for Siberia," Vision explained and Tony's mind blanked out. That wasn't what he'd been expecting. At all. "I've thought about it quite a lot and found I did not like any of the conclusions I arrived at. It was foolish to go alone. Many would even call it suicidal. Your willingness to sacrifice yourself for others _is_ well documented, but I have to wonder why you did so for this occasion." Vision was looking at him now. _Shit_. "Is it because of Colonel Rhodes' injury? Do you no longer trust me in battle?" 

"No," Tony answered, his tone of voice sounding completely strangled, then repeated more strongly, " **No**. Of course not. And yes, I do trust you. That's not why I didn't call." 

Vision gave him a skeptical look. "I did not handle the tail end of our conflict at the airport well. This is fact. I was more concerned with making certain that Wanda was all right rather than ensuring that the Captain did not escape, much to the detriment of all involved. I have been very displeased with myself over my actions, and still am." 

"Wait. No. Hold on, time out," Tony waved his hands sharply. "Look, we all fucked up at the airport. I don't blame you for Rhodey and I know he doesn't either. Feel free to ask him about it yourself. He won't mind. He'll just call you a dumbass like he does me all the time. That's not why I didn't call you. I swear." Tony sighed loudly, lowered his hands down to his knees, and looked anywhere but at Vision. "I didn't call you because I was breaking the Accords to chase after _Steve_." _God_ , was he ever going to be able to say that jerk's name again without wanting to choke on it? "There was a good chance that I would get arrested afterwards, rightfully so, and I didn't want that to happen to you too. It's that simple. I'm not angry with you or anything else. Hell, I thought you were angry at me." 

"I am." _Oh_. Well then. "As I said, what you did was foolish. The odds were stacked against you. If Helmut Zemo had truly been a member of Hydra, I fear we would not be having this conversation at all. You would be dead." 

Tony grimaced. With how unhappy Vision sounded about it, he got the feeling that the android thought it was one of the dumbest things he had ever done - and maybe it had been. There were so many things that could've gone wrong, and that was asides from all the things that did. But... he'd still wanted to trust in Steve at the time, had still thought Steve was _kind of_ doing the right thing. "I can't argue with that. It was a pretty boneheaded thing to do. Sorry." And he was, sorry for a great many things. Trusting in Steve being one of them. 

Vision stared at him, unblinking, for a long moment, then nodded as if in acceptance. "Please do not do so again. We are allies and... friends. Your safety is paramount to me." 

_Damn_. Vision really knew how to hit where it hurt. Tony swallowed past the lump forming in his throat and held his right hand up. "Scout's honor." 

Vision cocked his head to the side ever so slightly and blinked at him in what was likely confusion, before continuing, "This is where my displeasure comes into play. I am very displeased with Captain Rogers." 

Oh hey, now there's a thought that Tony could wholeheartedly get behind. Smiling far too cheerfully for the subject at hand, Tony prompted oh so helpfully, "Yeah, what's your beef with him?" 

"Many things," Vision answered with a grimace. "In truth, I have been displeased with him for some time. I do not believe he handled the operation in Lagos well at all. They should not have used it as a training exercise for Wanda when they knew their target would use deadly force. Moreover, they should have been in close contact with both the Nigerian government as well as local authorities to contain the threat posed by Brock Rumlow and his compatriots. Instead, the entire operation was bungled and innocent people died. And rather than stepping forward and shouldering the blame as a good leader should, Captain Rogers instead allowed the media to hound Wanda for a situation she should not have even been involved in. She did her best. I do not believe Captain Rogers did the same." 

Tony just sat there in abject shock. Holy shit, he would never have guessed Vision was pissed off about that. Go figure. To be honest, Tony hadn't thought too much about it. On purpose. The disaster in Lagos had reminded him of the last time he'd been in Africa, and that was a terrible, terrible thing to recall. He still couldn't cope with the festering wound that was Bruce's absence from their lives, much less anything else that had to do with Ultron. Tony had let his charities handle the relief work for Lagos, he didn't have to think about anything that way. He'd said all the right things to the press when asked about it, of course, and then had buried it right alongside all of the other hurts he couldn't deal with. He should have dealt with it personally though. Innocent people had gotten caught up in their bullshit again and had paid for it with their lives. Hell, _Rumlow_ had died, which was not okay either. The information they might have been able to get out of him would have been priceless and was just... _gone_. What the _hell_ had Steve been thinking? But no, this wasn't about his own personal feelings about it, this was about Vision. And Wanda, apparently. "I tried to deflect the accusations made against her, but as you know, people didn't really want to hear about it from me." 

Vision shook his head. "It was not your responsibility. You were not involved. Captain Rogers should have stepped up and he did not. That was his failing and does not reflect upon you. He also did not call upon me when he should have. Had I been involved in the operation, the results would have been quite different." Vision scowled after that statement. Oh yeah, he was pissed. "And then he endangered Wanda yet again by having Clint recruit her for his ill advised crusade against what he believed to be Hydra. By again not contacting the authorities and withholding information, he put everyone at risk and betrayed his teammates unnecessarily. Wanda is a fugitive because of him, her actions in Lagos now painted in a far worse light. Clint may never see his family again. Sam may never be able to return home. Scott Lang's life has likely been utterly destroyed. All of this could have been avoided if Captain Rogers had contacted either one of us. _Or_ if he had simply turned himself in to the authorities as he should have." 

Tony shrugged uncomfortably. Yeah, Steve really fucked up, but Tony had already known that. His ribs reminded him everytime he took a breath. "He thought he was doing the right thing, and he wanted to keep his old war buddy out of a box." 

"That is where I am most perplexed." Vision reached up and gripped his chin; and Tony couldn't help but quirk his lips in amusement. It was such a human thing to do. Maybe all of Vision's hard work at being _normal_ hadn't gotten lost in all their crap. "In regards to Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers' actions were questionable at best. Sergeant Barnes is a well known terrorist and assassin. He should not be walking the streets. Doubly so now that we know he can easily be triggered into a murderous rampage. Captain Rogers should have returned Sergeant Barnes to the Joint Counter Terrorism Centre immediately upon neutralizing him." 

"He was probably worried that another Zemo would happen," Tony suggested, though it felt like an empty platitude on his tongue. Ugh, he should not be trying to look at this shit from Steve's point of view. It wasn't worth it. "And I'm sure he didn't want to see his BFF behind bars again." 

Vision blinked quizzically at him. Hmm, Tony should probably start trying to explain slang to the poor guy. They were probably going to be hanging out together more. Safety in numbers, or something to that effect. "I do not understand why Captain Rogers insisted on taking Sergeant Barnes with him to the sleeper base in Siberia. The risks to Sergeant Barnes' safety were astronomical. If Helmut Zemo had truly been an agent of Hydra, it would have been child's play to again trigger the Winter Soldier programming in Sergeant Barnes, especially with five other Winter Soldiers to run interference. Sergeant Barnes would have again been enslaved by Hydra. I do not understand why Captain Rogers didn't take that into consideration." 

Tony closed his mouth, his lower jaw had dropped halfway through Vision's explanation. _He_ hadn't even thought about that. Holy shit. What the fuck had any of them been thinking? Had they been thinking? Tony had just been trying to do the right thing for his "friends", and then he'd been trying to do the least harmful thing, and yet everything had still just fallen apart. Vision was right though. If Zemo had really been Hydra, Tony would be dead right now. And so would Steve. And Barnes would be fucked forever. _Jesus_ , what a clusterfuck. "I can't really speak for Steve, Vis," Tony said hesitantly, "I can only speak for myself. Sometimes we just get so caught up in the moment that we can't always see the things we should. And sometimes things just get so messed up that all we can do is shoot from the hip and hope for the best." 

Vision frowned at him severely. "That is most illogical." 

Tony chuckled. "No arguments there." 

"I do not believe Captain Rogers has been a very good leader for the Avengers." Vision stated baldly. "His actions and inactions have negatively affected the entire team, as well as those around us. People have died because of them." 

"None of us are angels, Vis. People have died because of me too. _Lots_ of people," Tony offered weakly. He wanted to agree with Vision. He really did. And he _did_ agree to a degree. But... he was also a complete fuck up too. Steve didn't have the monopoly on that. Hell, if anyone had the monopoly on it, it should be Tony. Maybe he should trademark the term. He really didn't like this though. Being the voice of reason in regards to Steve's actions was something he just did not want to do. It left him feeling mildly nauseous. Not that Steve needed his help - or deserved it. Besides, Vision had arrived at these conclusions all on his own. He hadn't been influenced by anyone else, especially not Tony. His anger was genuine. 

"You speak true. We have all made mistakes," Vision nodded in agreement, but his face was resolute. "However, Captain Rogers was the defacto leader of the Avengers. He failed us. He endangered Wanda. He endangered you. He endangered our friends, and he endangered innocent people. What occurred at the airport and what occurred afterwards is his responsibility. Our former teammates would not have been incarcerated had he not summoned them to aid him on his fool's quest; and Sergeant Barnes would likely be receiving the psychiatric assistance he sorely needs if Captain Rogers had simply turned him back in to the authorities. Captain Rogers did nothing well. I do not believe I can forgive him for his actions." 

_Wow_. Holy shit, Steve was fucked. Here Tony thought his grudge would last forever, and then Vision just blew it right out of the water. Who knew? Reminder to self: never ever _ever_ get on Vision's bad side. Hmm. Well, shit. Tony didn't really have anything else of substance to add to that. He had _-_ very poorly - tried to give Steve a little leeway... kind of - not really - but Vision had just kept on going. Well then. Uh. He didn't give Steve very good odds if the idiot ever ran into Vision again and ran his mouth off about "what he had to do". Not good odds at all. But well... this was a good point to make his move. 

"On the note of psychiatric assistance," Tony started off carefully. He wasn't entirely sure how Vision would react to his upcoming suggestion, but it probably wouldn't be too bad. Not a Steve level of "Fuck you!" at least. "I've been thinking about hiring a therapist of some kind... for you." 

Vision blinked at him. 

So far so good. "Now, granted, you seem to have your head on pretty straight and everything," Tony mentally crossed his fingers and ploughed on, "Better than me, anyway. But I don't think it would hurt to talk to somebody else about everything that's happened. Someone who isn't involved, and is an actual professional trained to handle stuff like this. We all have issues that we can't help each other with, things that we're too close to. And there's nothing wrong with getting outside assistance." 

Vision narrowed his eyes speculatively. Oh shit. He was giving Tony _a look_. Why? "If one were available, would _you_ consider partaking of their expertise, Tony?" 

_Fuck_. Tony had walked right into that. "No." Vision's eyes narrowed even further. "I don't think-" _Wow_. He'd never thought he'd ever see that level of haughty disdain on a face that wasn't Pepper's. "Maybe." _Holy shit_ , Vision just dialed up the scathing to DEFCON 1. "I'll think about it," Tony choked out as he caved. Never, he could never withstand that kind of look. Not for long and most especially not from someone that actually mattered to him. _Jesus_. "Is that a yes?" 

The smile Vision beamed at him was practically beatific. Tony resisted the urge to strangle him for it. It wouldn't work anyway. He was a fucking android. "That is indeed a yes, Tony." 

\---

Even though Vision didn't actually eat, the android had decided to join Tony and Rhodey for dinner that night. Tony viewed that as a good thing. _Progress_. Coming out of his room was definitely of the good. He was also wearing different clothes. Score one for the good guys! Their conversations across the dinner table were... stilted to put it mildly, but eventually everything evened out and the awkwardness abated somewhat. And hey, Tony had been right! Vision had tried to apologize to Rhodey about what had happened and Rhodey didn't have none of that crap. Vision was now labeled a dumbass right along with Tony. Great company, if he did say so himself. It was for the best too. Tony's enormous guilt complex was more than enough for any of them. Vision didn't need that stuff weighing him down, and neither did Rhodey. Tony could carry it all fine on his own. 

It had been... a good day. 

And now, Tony was back down in his workshop. He hadn't changed his own clothes _again_. This particular three piece would likely also be shot before the night was through. Eh, it was just a suit. Who cared? There were more important things to worry about. There were always more important things. Like Rhodey's braces. Now how the hell was he going to make them any lighter? He'd pared them down pretty far already, making any of the parts less dense risked endangering structural stability, or at least, with the materials he had on hand. He could _change_ those materials. Hard plastics were a thing, Tony just wasn't sure he wanted to go that route, not for this step. Sure, he would use plastics whenever he decided on a commercial version. He'd have to, plastic would be necessary to keep it cost effective. But these were for Rhodey, and that was different. Money was not a question - would never be one - when it came to his friends. Tony just needed to know what to get, and that was the real question. 

"Boss?" 

"Mhmm?" Tony hummed absently. What to use? Another metal? Or would he really have to go with plastics? Choices, so difficult. 

"You have an incoming call from Secretary Ross." 

Shit. Whelp, there went that good day. "What the hell does he want now?" Tony muttered acidly to himself as he reached up and framed his nose with both hands. Sucking in a deep, painful breath, Tony closed his eyes and counted back from ten. He could do this. It was just a game, _the_ game. All he had to do was get through whatever the hell Ross wanted with him this time, and then he could go back to figuring out what he should do for the next prototype. That's all that mattered. "Okay, FRIDAY," Tony said calmly as he clasped his hands together and lowered them down to his lap, "Put him through." 

"Tony." Hmm, Thunderbolt didn't sound pissed this time around. That was something, at least. 

" _Thaddeus_ ," Tony returned breezily, "You're in luck. I'm down in my workshop tonight, so I don't have a physical phone to put you on hold with. I still could, mind you, just a word to FRIDAY will do it, but the lack of a blinking light kind of ruins the effect. Take this gift for what it is." 

"Hmmph, you're sounding spry." Ah, a dig for a dig, how expected. 

Tony didn't rise to the occasion. He had zero interest in trading barbs with Ross on a good day, he sure as hell wasn't going to do it on a day where he had much better things to do. Thunderbolt would either get on with it or not. 

"Fine, I won't waste my time." Tony allowed himself a smirk. It was always gratifying when assholes didn't beat around the bush about stuff. "You have tracking devices installed on your jets, correct?" 

"Yes." That hadn't always been true. The quinjets were meant to be the pinnacle of stealth, tracking had shit all to do with stealth. Then Bruce had taken his unscheduled and off the grid leave of absence and that had kind of altered Tony's perception on the subject. No one had thanked him for all the tracking devices he'd squirreled away in all of their vehicles after the fact (not that he'd ever expected gratitude from that quarter, and boy wasn't that telling), but the wry smile he'd gotten out of Natasha when he'd personally handed over all the info on those devices to her had been thanks enough for him. Never say he didn't _try_. 

"Excellent, I need all of the information on how to access them immediately." 

"Of course," Tony complied easily enough. "FRIDAY, if you'd get all that together and send it over to the Secretary ASAP." 

"On it, Boss." 

"Thanks." He was surprised, actually. Thunderbolt should have asked for something like this during their first charming phone call after the breakout at the Raft. Then again, Ross wasn't stupid. Arrogant, yes. Stupid, no. He should already know that this was a dead end. "This is pointless, you understand? They'll have deactivated all of them." After Siberia, of course. Before, well, Steve didn't always think about stuff like that. Hell, FRIDAY had been tracking the jet ever since Steve and Barnes had run off with it at the airport. And if he'd had the time to spare, he wouldn't have gone begging to Sam. No, Tony would have just waited for the super soldier and his plus one to get to where ever they'd been heading to, _then_ he would have followed after. But at the time, Tony had felt like he'd been running out of it. Things had been happening too fast, racing towards a bad end he'd wanted to avoid at all cost. In hindsight, he should have just fucking waited. 

"Of course, this is just a formality." Ross sounded smooth as glass and incredibly self-assured. He had other plans in the works already, no doubt. Plans that Tony was not aware of. Not yet, anyway. He'd have to do some digging - both lawful and... _otherwise_ \- soon. It wouldn't do to get caught with his pants down, not when it came to Thunderbolt Ross. No, he needed to stay on his toes, better to be safe than very, very sorry. "There are other avenues to pursue, far more effective ones. But we must cross our Ts and dot our Is, wouldn't want to give the bureaucrats a fit over improper procedures." 

"Right," Tony grumped out, rolling his eyes in a false show of boredom. "Should I be concerned about those more effective avenues?" 

Ross had the gall to laugh at him. "This isn't my first rodeo, Tony. I have ways of finding people, don't you worry about that. Just because our quarry has gone to ground doesn't mean we won't find them. There's more than one way to skin a cat, after all." 

Tony felt his lips curl up in disgust. God, the cartoon villain schtick Thunderbolt had going on was still so gross. Maybe he should look into getting some anti-nausea meds since he was going to have to keep dealing directly with this fucker for the time being. Might be useful to have on hand whenever he had to deal with anything Steve related too. Both of them made his stomach very, very unhappy with him. "I won't have to play hero to rescue certain _families_ from one of those "avenues", will I?" The others might be total idiots about certain things, but Tony wasn't. No, he'd lived and breathed paranoia ever since Afghanistan. He _knew_ better. Tony didn't for one second think that there weren't several agents from several intelligence agencies watching the Barton farm at this very moment. Secrets didn't stay secrets, not in this day and age. Lang's family in the meantime... Well, the man's ex-wife was dating a cop. Nothing more needed to be said about that. 

"Spare me your misplaced bravado," Ross said snidely, then laid on the smarm as he continued a moment later, "I have no interest in committing political suicide. No thank you, I like my career. I have a great deal of upward mobility. And who knows, maybe I'll be taking a little stroll up Pennsylvania Avenue in the coming years. There's some prime real estate up that way." 

"You? For president?" Tony scoffed. "Doesn't that job require more transparency than you're comfortable with?" 

"You never know, Tony," Ross chuckled. "Stranger things have happened. I mean, come on, it wasn't that long ago where Captain America was still everyone's golden boy, and look at him now. On the lam from the law." 

"True enough," Tony smiled grimly, took note of the pain radiating up his arms, and then forcibly unclenched the fists he hadn't even realized he'd made. Little half-moon indents dotted both of his palms, but thankfully, he'd only managed to break the skin on one of them. Small blessing, and fuck, he really did need a manicure. "Did you need anything else?" 

"No, that was it." Thunderbolt sounded pleased. How... _unpleasant_. "I'll let you go for now. Though I'll be sure to stay in touch, we do still have to take care of that little problem involving your parents, after all. Wouldn't want that crime to get swept under the carpet with all the others. No no, that wouldn't do." 

Was that a threat? Tony couldn't be sure. Maybe the hint of one? Possibly the entire conversation had been one. Who knows? He sure didn't. Ross wasn't going to blackmail him though, not yet. That much, Tony knew. They both had way too much dirt on each other for something so mundane. "You do that," he said finally, "And have a good night, Mr. Secretary." 

"Oh, it will be very good one indeed, Tony," Ross returned with obvious relish. 

_Ugh_. Cartoon villain meet Obie. What a horrible combination. Tony whipped his hand across his throat indicating for FRIDAY to cut the line. He needed to invent something. Some type of "OFF!" that repelled slimy people rather than bugs. Wait. No. Repel slimy people _and_ bugs. Forget his soon to be trillionaire status, he could rocket up to quad with that shit. Brilliant idea. He was a genius, tried and true. 

And _goddamn_ , the thought of Ross holding court in the Oval Office was really fucking disgusting. _Gross_. _Ugh_. Tony made gagging noises as he flopped over towards the nearest table, being extra careful to make sure he didn't land on anything that hurt. And failed spectacularly. Tony groaned as his forehead throbbed spectacularly from where he'd slammed it into a roll of paper, the ruler that had been hidden inside of the roll being the culprit for what was likely to be one hell of a headache. His ribs were also letting him know just how unhappy they were with him. Again. _Great job, moron_. Who needed enemies, he already had himself. 

_Well_. Thaddeus Ross as the President of the United States. Yeah, that wasn't going to work. You'd think that all the human rights violations old Thunderbolt had collected over the years would help to keep him out the White House, but they hadn't stopped him from becoming Secretary of State, so yeah. Tony would have to work on that. And be very, very careful about it as well. Ross was expecting Tony to fuck with him, best not make it too easy for the old man. No. Now was the time to be a sneaky son of a bitch. Shame he didn't have any secret agents left to call upon, but hey, he knew how to work with what he had. Hacking was just as useful, after all. 

But not tonight. No, that would be too obvious. Tony knew how to work people over, sometimes it was best to do what was expected of him, and sometimes it wasn't. He knew how to be the wild card. So, less thinking about Ross for now, and more thinking about other things. He still had to figure out how to lower the weight on Rhodey's braces. That was going to be quite the trick if he didn't want to change up the materials too much. Strength and flexibility were both important, and while he'd gotten the latter down to a fine art, the former could and would be a problem. He needed a lighter metal or a really good plastic... 

_Lighter metal_. 

Well, what do you know, he had something on hand that fit that bill really well. Who would have guessed? Tony shot to his feet, knocking his stool over in his haste, and strode over to an empty stretch of wall on the far side of his workshop. He lay his hand flat on a nondescript part of the wall, chest high, it beeped at him, and then another part of the wall slid away revealing what appeared to be an empty hallway on the other side. Empty looking, but not so much. His secret doors were the coolest. Kind of obvious though, he should work on that. Tony took twenty paces down the hall, then repeated the wall opening process on his left side and another door opened up. This was one of the rooms he'd stashed the detritus from Siberia in, and it already smelled musty as all hell. Yuck. Proper [closed] ventilation, he should work on that too. 

This particular room was special though, apart from being piled chockfull of Hydra bullshit anyway. This room held one of the things that Steve didn't deserve: a shield made out of vibranium. Tony crouched down. He'd left it where he'd told Vision to drop it, flat on the floor. Sure would be a waste to just leave it there. Vibranium was such a rare metal. Tony smiled bitterly as he reached down and tapped a fingertip against the good old red, white, and blue. Such a shame to just let it rot in here, unused. Especially since there was no way in hell Steve was getting his hands on it ever again. Nope. Not gonna happen. Tony was sure as shit going to be petty about that. 

But... his father _had_ made it. Sure, Tony had some really, completely fucking awful memories associated with it these days. Steve using it to crack the arc reactor in half being at the forefront of his mind on that. _What an asshole_. But still... Tony pressed his hand down against the cool metal. He was shaking, and not from the cold, imagined or otherwise. His father had made this shield. With his own hands. Howard Stark had made this thing for someone his father had considered a friend. Someone who _had_ been a friend... to him. Just... not to his son. 

Tony kind of wished he felt bitter about that, but no, he didn't really feel anything at all. That's probably why he was letting "Howard" go. _Howard and Steve_ had been friends, not Steve and Tony. He could let go of that person, right along with Steve. And that would just leave him with his father, someone he could learn how not to hate. Maybe. His mother would like that. He could do that for her... and for him. But... just because he wanted to let go of those things, didn't mean he had the right to erase the feelings Howard had built into this thing. It had been for an old, forever lost friend of the family, Tony could respect that much. He would. 

Tony slowly slid his hand off of the metal shield and sat back on his heels. _Just let it go_. 

Vibranium was still a good idea though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter may take another month, I'm not sure though. I want to start the side stories for both the rogue Avengers (I do feel kind of bad for being negative about Steve so much) and the one I have for Peter before getting on with Tony's distractions. It may not take that long (I hope not), but it also may? We'll just have to see.


End file.
